The Upside
by Arwen Lune
Summary: Believe it or not, but it's FINISHED! Sequel to the Downside. The Medjai attend a large horse festival in the Nile Valley. Ardeth finds his feet as leader of his people, and a wife.
1. The Upside : chapter 1

The Upside

Sequel to The Downside. It's strongly recommended that you read that first for the backstory of what is happening here.

Chapter 1

Even when the twelve tribes of the Medjai camped together for their quadrennialtribe gathering, there were not this many tents, people, horses and camels. Ardeth halted his group some way away from the huge dark mark on the land, many camps all built in a wide circle about a shimmering lake. It was a gathering of the renowned horsebreeders of the South Nile valleys, an opportunity to buy and sell, watch and be watched, socialise and show, and above all, to race.

Even now they could see small groups along the racing track, training or competing before the official races started.

An ocean of people, a contrast as night and day against the silence of the desert. The wind brought the sounds and scents of the camp to the Medjai, and they watched and listened in silence, taking it all in.

Horses, snorting and bugling to one another. Camels lowing. Dogs barked and growled at the many strangers. Singing and handclaps mingled with faraway voices that cheered on two camel riders. The sharp sounds of a tabla drum drifted on the wind. Merchants praised their wares, enticing the many strollers to view the merchandise. Children screamed in excitement.

Then adhan sounded, the call for prayer, and in a few moments a deep silence came over the huge camp, almost eerily so. A lone baby cried, but was quickly hushed.

The scents did not cease. Smoke from a fire, and the enticing smells of fresh-baked bread drifting along with it. Incense, dyes for cloth, newly tanned hides, many different foodstuffs.

After some time, just as quickly as they have ceased, the noises from the camp resumed, a cacophony of sounds.

The Nile Valley Spring Races. Abdul-Jalil of the Imtiyaz family had spoken highly of it.

Ardeth observed the huge camp with interest.

He had had no particular desire to make use of the invitation Abdul-Jalil had given him nearly two months ago. Hamanaptra needed his attention; he disliked the huge crowds of such festivals, and more so he had no particular desire to see Ester wed that man Sahir she had spoken of.

Ester Imtiyaz Il Fernández was a woman he had encountered during a patrol nearly three months ago, alone and wounded after her small group had been attacked by a band of robbers. He had been reluctant to take her along, but unwilling to refuse what Allah put on his path.

She was a daughter of the Imtiyaz family, one of the largest Nile Valley horse breeders. Finding her strong and resourceful, he'd warmed up to her during the long journey back to their base camp. Then one day he'd gone into her shelter to wake her from a nightmare and had fallen asleep next to her. Medjai custom declared them married after a night spent together, and this had upset her so that on arrival in the Medjai base camp, he had requested that the council anulled the union. She had gone back to her people and the promise of a marriage of convenience to happen at the Spring Races, and he was once again free to look for a wife.

Not that he was particularly eager to actively search out available young women and consider their suitablility as his wife and as the female leader of the Medjai. It was a tedious process and he didn't think he would find his wife here.

He turned his thoughts back to Ester. Had her family accepted her back? What was her life like now? He knew he had come to feel protective of her, and though he had not been devastated at her departure, seeing her wed a man that he doubted could make her happy held no appeal to him. She was like a sister to him, and he wished to see his sisters happy.

He needed to tell her she was officially released from the unintended union that had been between them. Nassar, the horse and camel breeder of the Medjai, had been hounding him to send a party to the Races, for such an opportunity to do business with the best breeders along the Nile could not be missed. Ardeth, knowing that not listening to the man meant inferior horses along the line, had relented.

Then the council had strongly hinted that he should look around for a suitable wife, the members of the tribe had given him a shopping list as long as his forearm, and Nassar had found out that camels were also raced and that it would be an opportunity to find some good camel mares.

Well, no one had ever claimed that being the leader of the Medjai would always be enjoyable. He looked to the nine people that accompanied him; another four brought the slower travelling camels to the festival.

Omar, a brother of Ardeth's mother, eagerly pressed his horse forward. He clearly was the only one not looking forward to this. Ardeth shrugged to himself as he decided he had endured worse hardships. It was only a week…

Riding into on of the main pathway of the camp Ardeth felt somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer size of it all. There were tents of every make and colour under the sun, horses and camels of every breed, makeshift corrals and people, so many people. From the looks of it there were several desert tribes, but the majority of the horses were from the breeding stables. Some small breeders were present, and to the outside of the circle were several large, well-guarded camps.

He went to the registry tent with Nassar. They had arrived late and there was no space in the inner circle of camps, however they were pointed to a good location in the outer circle. Ardeth was pleased that they would be somewhat free of the clamour of the inner circles. The man in the registry tent explained where they could find material for a corral and then called a name into the connecting tent.

A boy, maybe ten years old, appeared with a toddler on one hand. They walked slowly, the young girl obviously only just mastering to walk upright.

The man behind the desk smiled at them, the business-like expression giving way to a pride that could only be fatherly.

"Yussuf, show these gentlemen to their camping place. You can leave Fatma here."

"Yes, father"

As the boy led them out of the tent, Ardeth suddenly realised why the children had attracted his attention – they both bore a resemblance to Ester. Actually that wasn't overly surprising, for if she was a daughter of the Imtiyaz family that meant that she was related in some degree to at least half of the people present.

Outside his group was waiting in the middle of the road; nine in total. Three warriors, two of which had brought their wives, and the swordsmith, the horse expert, and their apprentices. Together they lead six more horses meant for sale or trade. All bore the Med-jai tattoages, and he could feel a mixture of curiosity and wariness among the spectators.

As Ardeth mounted his horse, the boy spoke up.

"It is quite far. If you don't mind to wait a moment longer, I will get my pony and can guide you there faster, sirs."

Ardeth felt that the group was getting restless, people and horses not comfortable with the idea of standing in the middle of a crowd.

"No..." He motioned to the boy to come over to him, and reached down to lift him up onto his horse. The horse snorted, eager to move, and jigged in place. Before the other horses could start to play up also, Ardeth gave the signal to the group.

The boy in front of him seemed both excited and a little wary. Probably never had much to do with the desert tribes, he concluded. He idly wondered if this was what a child of Ester would look like. If she had a son, would he look like this boy? The same undaunted attitude, the same warm brown eyes?

When they had arrived at the place the Medjai could use for a camp Ardeth offered to bring the boy back to the registry tent.

"Thank you sir, but I will go to our camp..." He said, pointing to the large circle of tents half a mile away. "To help my mother."

"I can bring you there," he said, looking around to find his people already starting to build the tents, awnings and corral. "Which camp is that?"

The boy almost beamed with pride. "That of Imtiyaz."

Grinning, Ardeth wheeled his horse and urged it to a canter. Not that urging was required – with so many scents on the wind Athir was more than ready to show off his prowess. The boy let out a small cry of excitement as the lean body stretched below them both, hard hooves eating up the distance between the two camps.

He set the boy down within thirty metres of the well-guarded entrance of the Imtiyaz camp.

The boy bowed.

"I thank you for the ride." Then, manners set aside for youthful enthusiasm, he added "that was _great_!"

Ardeth smiled down on him.

"Give your family the regards of Ardeth Bay."

"I will do that, sir!"

Riding back to his own people, Ardeth couldn't help but feel pleased about this development. Abdul-Jalil had invited him to the Races, apparently so that he could be thanked properly by the head of family for his care for theirs. Ardeth suspected this had more to do with the burial of the son of the house and the subsequent revenge on his killers than with his care for Ester, but was willing to accept the sentiment. It also gave him a way to see how Ester was doing.

He had tried to stop caring now it was no longer of his concern, but he wanted to hear from her own mouth that she was where she wished to be in life, that this made her happy.

He didn't know why, but it was important.

A couple of hours later the tents and the corral were built, and most of the group sat around the fire to drink tea. To Ardeth it still felt strange to have women with them, but it gave a pleasant atmosphere, more home-like than it would be on patrols. Two of his men had asked if they could take their wives with them, and he had seen no danger in it. With any luck they could take over the task of finding the particular sorts of cloth Fahyallah and some other women had requested.

Most, if not all, of the Med-jai women had been trained to fight – not for a war, but to defend themselves and their children. It was something Ardeth's father had decided after an attack on the Med-jai camp one day. Few knew about the training the women received, and any trying to attack the camp now stood before an unpleasant surprise. They still left men behind when the warriors rode off, but they all slept lighter knowing that the women were not helpless themselves.

The Med-jai were nomads, each tribe settling their mobile camps where it suited them within their own area. The old, pregnant and those with young children often stayed at the Medjai base camp, in an oasis deep in the desert. That place was also used by Nassar to breed the horses, camels and goats of the tribes. This situation enabled the tribes of the Med-jai to travel light and fast, all the while keeping the vulnerable people safely out of danger.

The women that had come with them now were both from the mobile camp – young women who didn't have children yet. They went clothed differently from most of the other desert tribes, the Med-jai attaching less value to the heavy robes and veils that were common.

In fact they just returned to the camp. Rafid smiled at his wife.

"Lady, tell me why you are looking so pleased?"

Yamira gave him a brilliant smile and showed him the basket she was carrying. "My husband, they are preparing for a wedding tonight. The family of the bride presents this food as a gift to the Med-jai camp."

The food was good, of course. These type of gifts were to show how prosperous the family was to be able to give this away. Weddings at the festival gave a couple and their families status. It was also practical, as most relatives came to the races anyway and could attend.

It was a fine meal, highlighted by the fruit sorts that were not available in the desert. Unaccustomed to food being abundantly available, they debated saving the majority of the fruit for the rest of the week – then laughed as they realised they could eat fresh fruit every day while they were at the races.

"Be sure to enjoy what this occasion has to offer," Ardeth told his people. "We will not have this chance for years to come."

Money, in this, was not a problem. The Medjai traded to acquire whatever they could not come by themselves – they had gold, selected objects from the various secret places they guarded melted down to coins, but the opportunities to spend it were scarce.

The women were less eager to share the rumours they had heard while they were out. Word of mouth had made the role of the Medjai into those of the attackers of the party of the Imtiyaz son. Abdul-Jalil, the youngest of the Imtiyaz brothers, had rescued his niece from their clutches and found his nephew slain.

Thankfully the rumours spoke not of the name of these attackers, nor of facial tattoages. Ardeth concluded that Ester and her uncle had kept quiet about who had really helped her, and though the rumours were unflattering, there was no real risk to them. He thanked them silently, for if there _had_ been such detail, the Medjai would have been publicly assaulted for their imagined brutal attack on the Imtiyaz family.

Or perhaps Abdul-Jalil – a man Ardeth had taken to instantly – had simply left out the Medjai completely, skirting the whole issue of Ester spending weeks in the desert with her rescuers, and enabling the Medjai to attend the races as simply another tribe from the depths of the Sahara.

With any luck he'd have the chance to find out tomorrow. During the opening parade the breeders presented themselves, and if Ester was not there then Abdul-Jalil would be. It wouldn't be difficult to start a conversation with his admiration of the Imtiyaz horses as starting point.

He went to bed early that night, but the sounds of the vast camp around him disturbed his sleep.

_There. Just goes to show that just because the narration of one adventure ends, it doesn't mean no other adventures are possible…_

_Cheers,_

_Arwen_


	2. The Upside : chapter 2

The Upside

Chapter 2

He started awake early, unaccustomed to the sounds of the many camps around him; horses being taken for a morning walk, men and women carrying water for the day, merchants taking their wares to the inner circle where the market was.

Staring at the sloping fabric of his tent he wished, just briefly, that the morning would have greeted him with its customary breathy silence, so typical of the desert and so comforting.

Then, scolding himself for his morose moods, he decided that the opportunity to go to these races was rare in the extreme, and that he had better enjoy them to the fullest extend. There would be a lifetime of waking to the silence of the Sahara – and now only six days of the races.

Outside his second in command sat by the fire, savouring a cup of coffee. Hard to come by in the desert, the stuff was easily bought at the market, and Fouad had taken the opportunity to buy several bags of beans.

"That devilish substance will turn your innards black some day, my friend!" Ardeth declared, grinning at the way Fouad shielded his cup instinctively with his hands.

"There is tea also! And you are early Ardeth, I thought you wished to take this week to indulge in idleness."

"The noise woke me. Besides, we have to prepare for the parade. Nassar tells me it is a good opportunity to open trade contacts."

"Indeed so. Omar and Ihsan have already left for the inner circle. Swordsmiths like to work early, apparently."

"I cannot blame them for not intending to work with the fires in midday."

"Indeed. So, the parade?"

"Supposed to quite an event. Everybody dresses up and shows off to everybody else."

Fouad chuckled.

"You make it sound so attractive. Does this have anything to do with the 'gentle' encouragement of the council that you find a wife?"

He winced at his second in command, wishing he wasn't so transparent to the man.

"I have no interest in any of these women, nor do I care to be assessed for my marriageable qualities alike a goat on market day."

"Would you like some coffee to go with that bitter mood, my friend? What makes you say there is no one here of interest to you? Have you met all of them?"

"They either smell the riches, and are interested for the wrong reason, or don't smell the riches, and have no interest. None of them could be could prosper in the life I have to offer."

He remembered all too well the speculative faces of the women he had seen the night before. _What tribe is he? What is their status? Would a union highten status or lower it? _

"What makes you think you could not offer a woman happiness?"

There, Ardeth knew, his friend touched upon a sensitive point. Having seen his mother struggle in her marriage with his father and blossom after his death, he did not truly believe that the wife of a tribe leader could find happiness in that life.

Fouad, long since attuned to his moods, continued.

"You forget, I think, that while your father was a great leader, he did not particularly care about the happiness of your mother or you and your siblings."

Ardeth nodded slowly.

"And I would say that in your concern for your future family you already give them far more chance of a contented family life than he ever did. Happiness does not require you to be present at all times, nor to give up your sacred duties. It requires your attention, care, devotion and above all your love."

"And it is possible to be both a good leader and a good husband, you say?"

"Indeed it is. You have but had the misfortune to not have witnessed such qualities by example. The Bay line does not have a history of loving unions."

It was a good friend indeed who would speak to him thusly, Ardeth knew. No other would dare speak of his father in such words, unwilling as they were to speak ill of the last leader. But Fouad had witnessed how the young Ardeth had longed desperately for the love and approval of a father, and in the rare moments Ardeth opened his heart to him, would take on the fatherly role his young leader missed in his life.

"How does one know the right partner to form such a loving union with? How did you know that Junah was the one for you?"

He watched as a warm smile of remembrance came over the face of his friend. Junah had passed away six years ago, but Fouad's love for his wife had not waned, and though his status warranted it, he had never wed another.

"It was as if lightning stuck my heart. She smiled at me and I could not move, not speak. I wished only to be allowed to love her and be loved by her in return. She made me wish to be a better man, and I changed that day, never to be like I was before I met my Junah…"

Ardeth smiled at the deep love evident in Fouad's face. If he could one day speak of his wife with such words, he would have done well.

"She was at times harsh as the desert sun that gave her her name, argued with me if I should fail to take her wishes into account… But when I returned from patrols weary and covered in blood and dust, she took me into her bed and soothed me, healing my hurts with her love."

That was what he sought in a wife, Ardeth realised. Someone who could capture and keep his attention, but above all someone who could be harsh as the life of the Medjai sometimes required and yet would let herself be tempered by his love. Someone who would stand up to him and demand to be his equal partner, and yet would love him even as they argued.

He had sometimes wondered if Fahyallah had not been too gentle a match for his father, to much inclined to bow to his wishes. He found himself wishing for a wife who would not put his wishes above her own – if he made her unhappy, he wished to be told, so that he could amend.

If such a lady existed, he knew he would not find her here, where daughters were raised to be the meek, decorative wives that bore their husbands sons and bowed to his will.

Nonetheless he knew the conversation had eased his heart, shown him a different way of looking at the situation. He clapped a friendly hand onto Fouad's shoulder.

"I must decline the offer of coffee, but I thank you for your words, my friend."

Athir rumbled as his master approached. The horse was the only one standing as always; the leader watched over his group.

The horse came over to Ardeth to sniff his hands. He stood there caressing it for a while. Athir – the Favoured. And the horse was; it was one of the most prized animals the Med-jai had. A leader of horses fit for a leader of men.

He saddled the animal, brought it outside the coral and mounted. Athir snorted impatiently, thrilled by the idea of taking a closer look at the busy camps and many horses he had seen from the coral.

Ardeth gave the horse its head and together they rode through the sleeping camps, toward the lake.

Athir shied back from the waterline, certain that the shimmering sand couldn't possibly be safe footing. Then, feet safely on dry land and neck stretched to its utmost, the horse snorted at the water. When his breath caused ripples on the surface, he leapt back a pace, and Ardeth could not hold back his laughter.

"Sahibi, it is but water!"

Curiosity winning out over fright, the horse approached again, snorting loudly at the surface of the lake. Ardeth's laughter stilled to a smile, beyond fond of his proud horse.

Even in oases the Medjai moderated the amount of water their horses could drink, to curb the risk of colic and to preserve water for other times they might need it. This lake was so large Athir did not even seem to recognise it as water, and it amused him to see his horse overcome its initial unease.

He fondly stroked the broad neck as the horse finally dropped its head for a drink, body still tensed to retreat at the first sign of danger.

When Athir had drank to his satisfaction, Ardeth gazed along the edge of the lake. Most of the narrow beachside was empty at this time of day. It would be a good ride, enabling him to see some more of the camps and let Athir blow off steam before the parade of the afternoon.

It started in a fine canter, but when the beach before them was clear for easily a mile, the horse chomped down on the bit, eager to stretch its legs. Ardeth laughed and gave it free rein. As always the acceleration thrilled him, blew away the sands of worry and disquiet from his mind.

The loose end of his lithan whipped behind him, and the wind forced tears from his eyes. Hard hooves beat the sand along the lake's edge, and he was half aware of people stopping to watch him pass by, admiring looks being directed to him. Athir, thrilled as his master, sped up yet further. But Ardeth, never quite able to not be the leader of his people, resisted the urge to whoop as he once might have.

Nearing the point of the beach where he had started, he took up the reins, and the horse obediently shortened its paces, slowing to a gentle trot. Athir snorted and shook his head happily, refreshed from the run.

"Soh…soh…" he soothed, until the animal could be convinced to slow to a walk. The sprint had but served to warm the horse for further action; it was not tired in the least. Riding down a pathway away from the lake he had to weave between people and hand-pulled carts, for the camps came alive early, to get things out of the way before the heat of midday slowed life to a crawl.

"Ya sayyid Ardeth!"

Turning in the saddle in surprise, he suddenly found himself surrounded by his own men and camels – Abdul-Rahim had arrived with the eight camels Nassar had wished to take to the races.

"Rahim! You were not expected until sundown!"

"We made better progress than expected, for Amar was eager to reach the destination," the older man laughed, gesturing to the young warrior that looked around him with wide eyes.

"It is so… enormous!"

"Isn't it, lad? If our leader cannot find a lady here that pleases him, she must not exist!" Rahim bantered. Ardeth gave him a severe look, quietly wishing that topic would not come up for conversation as much as it did. For some reason his warriors found the order of the council concerning this matter intensely amusing.

Grinning broadly, Abdul-Rahim inclined his head.

"We mean no disrespect, Ardeth. We but wish to see you experience the bliss that is the company of a good woman!"

"Have you been to our camp yet?" he coolly changed the subject. The other man sobered, realising this was not a topic his leader cared to banter about.

"We have arrived only just now, and went to water the camels first."

"Good. I will show you where we have set up – away from this din."

As they rode people stepped aside and gazed up at the tattoaged men as they rode proudly along the road. Between the peoples of the Nile valleys they were a sight to behold, Ardeth knew – moving with the grace and pride that marked only the highest of status.

"Look who has arrived!" called Nassar as they entered the Medjai encampment. "Excellent! You can get ready for the parade straight away."

The newly arrived men groaned and demanded to be given time to eat and refresh themselves. Ardeth paid no more attention to it.

What to do now? There were a few hours before the parade started, but he really wasn't in the mood for the busy atmosphere of the central square. Hearing Athir whickering to his herd, he decided to spend his time with his horse, taking the time for some extra attention. He retrieved the bag with brushes and the ceremonial tack adornments and went to where his horse still stood.

Athir followed him curiously. The horse wasn't used to so much undivided attention from its master, and playfully searched the man's pockets in case there was something edible there.

Ardeth didn't often have the time to really give attention to his horse, and was pleasantly surprised by how calming it felt.

He had always loved horses, but somewhere along the way to adulthood and leadership he had forgotten how pleasant it was to just be close with one. His horse was not young anymore, but it seemed to be in an unusually playful mood. Good-naturedly it twisted and turned to achieve that the caresses ended up in the places where he wanted them, and Ardeth could not help but laugh.

Finally he simply stood with his arms around the horse's heavy neck. It gently rested its head on Ardeth's shoulder, and they stood like that for some time, the peace of the long, slow equine breaths seeping into him.

Eventually Athir grew restless and bugled to the horses that were ridden in and out of the Imtiyaz camp. Ardeth released his horse and set about adorning it with the sets of ceremonial decorations. The plain tack for everyday use was beset with dark blue tassels, moving as the horse moved and thus keeping it free of flies.

The formal sets were the same in function, but the tassels were blue and silver, the saddleblankets richly beset with silver star patterns and yet more tassels hung from the edges. In other tribes the blankets would have had silver coins hanging also, chiming gently as they rode – but the Medjai, silent shadows of the desert even in their own ceremonies, rode in silence.

Around him the others had returned to adorn their horses and camels similarly, fussing with dusty coats and elaborate headstalls.

Dust drifted on the wind as Ramin, Nassar's apprentice, cursed his grey horse. Usually the whitest white, it had taken the opportunity to roll in the red mud of a spilled bucket of water.

Since it was mainly an opening for trade opportunities, Nassar had taken over organisation for the parades, and Ardeth was content simply to mind his own horse.

Finally they all changed into ceremonial garb, lighter cloth and silver stars and finely crafted daggers by the hands of Omar. Ardeth wrapped Fouad's lithan in the elaborate, broad style that they preferred for such occasions, and Fouad returned the favour.

It was a lot of hassle, but when the group was mounted, the hand-horses divided among the riders, and the camels rose to their feet, he had to admit it was worth it. The overall effect was dramatic. The Medjai were imposing, mysterious and unmistakably warriors.

He led the group over the road around the inner camp, and was again overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. Just how many people and horses were present? Finally they arrived at a large open space to the west of the camp. Many riders were gathered there, and yet more were coming.

Ardeth smiled a little at the expression on Nassar's face. The man devoted his life to the breeding and training of horses, and this was his paradise. All around them the finest animals of Egypt stood, walked and trotted.

Arabs, both the light type of the desert and the slightly larger ones that were bred in the Nile delta. Berber horses. A large but light-built type he hadn't seen before. There were some horses that looked like Ester's horses and he knew that those must be from the Imtiyaz camp.

A lot of dust was moved up by the milling around, and Ardeth could not see very far. His group stood still, quietly watching the countless horses around them.

Suddenly the wind picked up, and the dust was momentarily gone. He caught a glimpse of a purely white horse just at the edge of his vision, but it was gone again before he could get a good look.

Ardeth felt the group becoming restless, and led them along the outside of the gathering to the up-wind side, so they would escape from the dust. A young man wearing a bright blue band around his arm – apparently signifying that he was part of the organisation - came to talk to them briefly.

"Good day, sirs."

The man nodded curtly, and Ardeth recognized the manner of one who has talked to different tribes and families all day. It was too much hassle to have to adapt to each and every leader who thought himself more than the man who brought messages, so this nod meant 'I respect your status, but I am no less myself.'

Ardeth smiled at the hassled manner. Clearly the day so far had not been without its problems.

"Greetings on this beautiful day. What news do you bring?"

The man looked mildly surprised and then quickly explained the way the parade would take place. Groups would form a double line at the opening to the central square, leaving a path in their middle. Through there would go all the groups, to circle the main square and return.

Nassar nodded at the setup – this would give everybody in the camp the chance to see the groups, but those ahorse had also plenty of opportunity to view each other's horses.

Certainly it was an improvement over the unorganised masses of riders they had come to expect.

After some more milling around they heard the call to form up, and not knowing if there was any order of status being kept to, Ardeth simply rode his group over and positioned them next in the broad line, himself and Nassar centre-front, the camels in the back.

There was a long wait for the other groups to form up, and Athir grew restless, eager to test his dominance against the other horses. Though the horse was schooled to silence and to ignore others while being ridden, when a horse further down the line bugled, it could not keep itself.

The din rose as more horses gave voice to their impatience and curiosity, and Ardeth suddenly recognised a particular hoarse neigh, one he thought he'd identify anywhere.

Down the path between the groups came a group of richly dressed riders on magnificent horses, and from the looks and whispers of the men next to him Ardeth could only conclude the man at the head of the group would be Umayyad bin Kalifah Imtiyaz. He was flanked on the left by a young man, the right side deliberately left open. This was where his lost son would have ridden.

Behind the two men in front came a young man riding a large bay, and Ardeth recognised the broad features and fine neck of Amáble. The rider lead along a young mare, promise to the future as she danced along. On the other side of Amáble he recognised Abdul-Jalil, his hands full with his own steed and leading boisterous Khamaseen along. 

Nassar sucked in his breath.

"Magnificent…" he murmured, and Ardeth smiled.

Athir, scenting his rival, issued a loud challenge, and was answered immediately. Ester's youngest uncle struggled for a moment, then sought for the horse that caused him this trouble, and Ardeth met his eyes. Recognition lit up in the other man's eyes, and they exchanged half-bows. 

"So you mean to tell me the lady you let go back to her people owns two of those fine beasts?" Nassar asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Indeed so. The large bay and the grey horse on leadline."

"Why did you let her go!?" Nassar jested, and Ardeth grinned at that reaction.

In truth, there had been a moment that he had wondered if he should not try to keep Ester with the Medjai. Her uncle had arrived, and when the man turned out to be not nearly the djinn he had imagined from her words he had been relieved. However he found out that this uncle was not the man who would decide over her fate, and from speaking with Abdul-Jalil before the man sought his rest, it was clear that the eldest brother, head of the family, would not be so understanding.

He'd liked Abdul-Jalil, who had clearly adored his older sister and seemed to hold her daughter in high esteem. He was sad about the death of his nephew Amal, but no less pleased to have found his niece alive.

It had occurred to Ardeth that if he were to tell the man of the unfortunate marriage between him and Ester, the family might well decide she was better off with her husband.

She might not _want_ it, but with what awaited her at home, would she not simply be better off in the end? He cared for her, and he had thought to detect some tentative warm feelings from her side also.

Yet... no. Had she not been so distressed at the marriage, merely unwilling, he might have tried to convince her. However she had said it best herself – she wished for no one to have rights over her person. Just the fact that he had had the right, even if not the inclination, to treat her as his wife had upset her deeply.

His thoughts took him so far away that he hardly saw the groups of riders parade past him. It was not until Athir came to attention that he blinked and focussed on the group now approaching on its way back from the square.

He noticed now that Imtiyaz riders were by no means the most richly decorated. Family colours were sky-blue and silver, elaborately daggers hung on fine belts, but the clothing was surprisingly practical for ceremonial garb.

Ardeth heard Nassar hold his breath as Abdul-Jalil, now on their side of the group, separated from the line and crossed the few metres between them. Jigging and tossing its head, Khamaseen trotted along.

"Salaam 'alaykum, Ardeth Bay."

"Salaam 'alaykum wa raHmat allâhi wa barakaatu, Abdul-Jalil bin Kalifah Imtiyaz."

The men greeted each other with another half-bow from the saddle.

"It is good to see you have accepted my invitation! I trust your family fares well? I had word of your arrival from one of my cousins. Is the location he assigned you for your camp to you liking?"

Ardeth smiled at this veritable flood of words, and remembered what Ester had said – the line of her mother wore its heart on its sleeve.

"We are well and have found a pleasant campsite. Your family is in equally good health, I hope?"

It was an extremely abbreviated version of the usual ceremony of greeting, in which one inquired after the health of the other's wife, children, mother, father, siblings, tribe elders and finally of his beasts.

"We… are well, for the most part. It has been hard on my people to accept Amal's death."

"Ma'lish. A great evil was done there."

Abdul-Jalil nodded gravely, but the sorrow of the moment was quickly lifted as the grey horse shook its head, jangling the coins and beads that had been braided into its mane. The man smiled again as if the sound had carried away his graveness.

"However Ester fares well, she walks without support!" his face fell again with the next words. "She will soon marry though, in but a few days."

Ardeth nodded. "That is good to hear. I have wondered how she was recovering."

He pointedly did not comment on the pending marriage, having no wish to dwell in it. The other man gave him a sharp look, then again his mood lightened.

"Why do you not come to ask about her health yourself? She will be in our camp."

"Is that appropriate?" Surprised at this offer and having no wish to offend her family, he asked to be sure this was not a breach in decorum.

Abdul-Jalil laughed.

"After the parade, come to our group and I will accompany you. This fellow here," he indicated the grey horse, "is too excitable to be around for the hours my brothers will wish to spend circulating."

"I accept that offer gladly. Would that also be the right moment to introduce Nassar," he indicated the man next to him, "our horse breeder, to those of your family that have an interest in lineages?"

"Certainly it would be. Just now Dhakwan commented on the quality of your steeds. He will be most pleased if I introduce you!"

"Very well. We will seek you out after the parade has ended."

They bowed again, and the other man turned his horse, clacked his tongue, and could be heard laughing as both horses sped to a canter with one great, eager leap.

Salaam 'alaykum – greetings/formal hello

Salaam 'alaykum wa raHmat allâhi wa barakaatu – "greetings, and the mercy of Gad and his blessings"

Ma'lish – sorry (condolences)


	3. The Upside : chapter 3

The Upside

Chapter 3

He wasn't quite certain why he was making this visit, and that made him frown. He told himself it was simply to let her know of the anullment of their accidental mariage and to ascertain himself she was well, but if that was so, why was he restless?

Nassar, beyond pleased to be introduced to someone of the legendary stables, rode next to him, wondering aloud if there were possibilities for a continuing exchange of bloodlines. The others had left to go to the market or to race camels elsewhere in the camp.

The Imtiyaz group had dwindled to perhaps fifteen men; the brothers, some of their sons, and a few male relatives. With them stood representatives of one of the other large stables, clearly men they long knew.

"KhamA!"

Growing impatient with the proceedings, the grey horse twisted and turned on the leadline. Abdul-Jalil was already standing a horselength away from the others to give the horse space to move, but clearly it grated him. When he saw Ardeth and Nassar approach, he greeted them joyously.

"Ah, you have come!" then, to his older brother: "Umayyad, meet the man who avenged your son. This is Ardeth Bay, of the Medjai."

The man who turned his horse to look at Ardeth reminded him painfully of his own father. Younger, but the same eyes, lined with the weight of leadership, and the same hands, knuckles marked by age and a hard life, but still full of strength.

Ardeth bowed from the saddle, recognising a great man when he saw one.

"And for that I thank you," Umayyad spoke gravely. "For when he did not return, we had little hope in finding even his body. That you have done so, gave him a proper burial and avenged him, lightens my heart."

Ardeth bowed again in acknowledgement of this praise.

"I am glad I have been able to be of assistance, though it does little to lift the burden of your grief."

Abdul-Jalil, who seemed to think this was enough graveness for the moment, pressed his horse forward and introduced Nassar with a flourish.

"And this, brothers, is Nassar, the breeder of the Medjai. I have seen the many fine beasts they own and say it would be wise to consider trade relations with him!"

Ardeth saw men nod as they assessed the horses he and Nassar rode, and when one of them called out that he had planned to seek them out at some point, he knew he could leave this to Nassar.

Soon he was riding with Abdul-Jalil in a wide arch around the groups of riders, all three horses pleased to stretch their legs.

"You are certain Ester will wish to speak with me?" Ardeth called to be heard over the rushing wind.

"If she does not, I am certain she will let you know!" the man called back. "But she has been saddened of late, your visit might cheer her!"

Unsure if to ask about the reason for this sadness, Ardeth said nothing. He did not want to give her family the impression there was anything inappropriate between them by asking intimate questions. However Abdul-Jalil reined in his horses and rode close enough for them to speak.

"She was to marry in four days, but her betrothed has made it known he wishes to lower the faridah."

Ardeth winced, recognising this for the hurtful and shaming move it was. Faridah, or mahr, was an agreed-upon gift of the husband to the bride, to be given at the wedding and to hers alone, so that she might start her married life with property or possession of her own. These gifts could be money, livestock, clothes or property. In families of wealth and status the faridah would often be high, asked by a woman to be paid by the man she chose.

That the marriage had been planned meant that they had come to an agreement about it at some point in the past.

Faridah gave a woman a measure of independence from her new husband. It showed that the husband willingly took responsibility for his new bride and future family. It also displayed status and appreciation. If a man gave his bride a great gift as faridah, he showed his status in his ability to do this, as well as his appreciation for what she brought to his house.

If one wished to lower a previously agreed-upon faridah, that was a slap in the face of the woman and her family, displaying a clear lowering of esteem for her and what she brought to his house.

"Publicly?" he asked in disbelief.

"Indeed, on the first day of the Races."

"That is cruel indeed."

Sometimes the family of a woman would negotiate about faridah, though in the end it fell to her to agree or decline. To announce the wish to lower faridah during the course of negotiations was painful enough – to announce it in public, on an event such as this, could easily destroy a woman's reputation.

"Yes. I have counselled my brother to refuse. Ester is better off unmarried than with someone who would shame her so."

"I would agree! If he does not value her to give what they agreed upon, that hardly bodes well for the union."

Abdul-Jalil nodded fervently, and Ardeth felt his heart warm to the man. He not only cared for his niece's reputation, but moreover for her happiness.

"I never did care for the match. Sahir has no passion – he will squeeze the life out of her. If not he, his mother." he shook his head sombrely, then added: "She agreed to it though."

As they approached the camp, vibrant drumming music came floating on the breeze, and the man's mood shifted in another mercurial change.

"Ah! But that is a welcome sound! They have gathered at last."

Four guards bowed to them as they entered the Imtiyaz camp. It was a cheerfully unorganised maze of makeshift corrals, tents and awnings. Slender dogs napped in tent entrances, and in the middle of an open space glowed the remnants of a fire, surrounded by many kettles.

"I will put away this fellow here," Abdul-Jalil called, indicating his troublesome charge. "Ester will be with the music, I will join you shortly!"

Surprised that he was free to wander in their camp, Ardeth dismounted and tethered his horse. The music that vibrated the camp shifted of rhythm, the doholla settling its typical deep voice into a slow, powerful counterpoint beat. As he walked to the large tent from whence it came, a second drummer joined in, the sharper sounds of a higher-voiced tabla making the beat more energetic.

The driving rhythm emanating from the tent made his fingers drum along, his body adhering to the beat without his command.

The first drummer paused and the tabla thrummed so fast the air near hummed with sound. Rousing cries drove it up yet faster, and then with one great "hey!" it stopped completely. The deeper sound of the doholla took over without pause and quickly sped up, as if the two players challenged one another.

The sharp, high sound of the tabla joined in once again, and now the two drummers climbed together, pushing one another higher and higher until the camp reverberated with the sound.

The tent was open on the side facing into the camp, and when it came into view, he stopped in shock.

Looking around the tentflaps he found only women inside, outer robes and veils shed such as they would go among their own family. He retreated immediately, but in that brief glimpse his breath was taken away. Three young women danced an energetic dance to the drums, handclaps and calls, but he had no eyes for them.

In the entrance of the tent sat Ester, double tabla held between her knees, and her hands moved so fast they were a blur. Sweat beaded on her face. Damp hair shaken back, face turned op and eyes closed, she abandoned herself to the primal power of rhythm, and he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

Back behind the tent that shielded the women from his sight Ardeth took several deep breaths, trying to get his suddenly racing heart under control. It was a sight clearly not meant for his eyes, yet he felt shockingly tempted to look again.

Before, once he had realised his interest upset her somehow, he had banished every thought of her that would not have befitted a sister. Seeing her near panic when he told her the laws declared them married had convinced him there was no way the union could work. She was simply too traumatised.

Now he realised that the person he had come to know was not all that she was. After some time to recover from her ordeal she was no longer the brittle victim he knew, but a joyously, vibrantly alive woman. Much as he tried, he could no longer see a sister in her.

He turned around to leave, but just as he was about to search Abdul-Jalil, the music came to a crescendo of ululating cries, drums thrumming staccato until one great "HAY!" ended it. He stood for a long moment listening to the laughter and compliments, glad beyond words that Ester's fears of being outcast by her family had not come true. The outside world may be unkind to her, betrothed included, but within this camp she seemed to be able to feel at ease.

"Salaam 'alaykum wa raHmat allâhi wa barakaatu," he heard behind him. Turning back with a start, he found himself face to face with Ester.

She had gained some weight, he noted with approval. She had quickly put on an abaya and veil as was proper when meeting a man not of one's own family, and the long garment showed some curves that had not been there before. Her dark hair was covered by a loose veil, but a slightly damp curl sprang loose by her right ear. Her breath was quickened, and there was a smile about her lips.

He wondered if he could be the cause of that, or if the music session had cheered her so. To his own surprise, he found he rather wished it was the first.

"Wa 'alaykum is salaam, Ester Imtiyaz Il Fernández," he replied formally, taking both her hands and bowing over where they met. He was pleased to find there was no hesitance in her touch. Over-warm from the drumming, her hands were decorated with elaborate henna patterns.

"I am pleased to see you are well."

She smiled, but he thought it didn't quite reach her eyes. When he released her hands she invited him with a gesture to follow her to a comfortable seating area under a large awning. A lanky, bronze-coated dog slept stretched out among the pillows, her three young pups yipping excitedly as the two of them arrived.

"Please sit, and I shall find us some tea. Do not hesitate to send the dogs away if they bother you."

She left, and Ardeth observed that she had brought him to what appeared to be the main social area of the camp. A very public place, in plain view of any who cared to look.

He sat down, smiling as the pups crowded in to lick his hands and smell his clothes. The Medjai kept few dogs; there simply wasn't always meat to feed them, and he was ill-inclined to have packs of starving beasts around the camp, fending for themselves. Only Nassar had a couple in the base camp to help guard the herds.

After some minutes Ester returned with a basket. She smiled when she saw him play with the pups, a true, tender smile this time. While she settled down on the cushions next to him, Abdul-Jalil appeared also. Having changed into plain robes, the man settled down under an awning that offered clear sight of theirs, but wasn't so close that he would overhear.

Ardeth nodded in approval. A chaperone reduced the chance of people speaking ill of his visit. He supposed that those who wished to speak ill would do so anyway, but he would not wish to add to her troubles.

Ester poured tea, her movements graceful and routined. She was clearly an experiences hostess, accustomed to receive guests in the grand style of her family.

"That was an impressive drumming session," he said, looking for a way to start a conversation. "Will there be a performance at some point?"

She shook her head.

"We dance and drum only for ourselves. It would not be proper to be seen."

He had to admit the boundaries of modesty were breached by the abandon the women had shown. Perhaps that was the attraction of it; he could not imagine she had many opportunities to let herself go in that manner. Still he wished he would be able to watch one day.

"With my people men and women dance and sing together," he smiled. 

She looked wistful at that idea.

"I wish we did not have to hide while we celebrate, but at least we are able to do so at all."

She watched with a smile as the pups played tug of war with a scrap of cloth, then suddenly changed the subject.

"Forgive me, I have not even asked after the health of your family! How fares your mother? The men who were wounded in the taking of that old city?"

"Mother is well; she sends her greetings. She was most impressed with you, did you know that?"

Ester shook her head.

"She said she had not thought someone not raised in the desert could have survived such an ordeal."

She clearly didn't know how to reply to that sort of praise, so he continued:

"The wounded are well. Nasir and Jawad ride with the patrol once again, Ghalib is training to regain full control of his arm, and Hisham has just started to ride again. Bahir is still regaining his strength, but he is also on the mend."

"That is a relief. I would feel terrible if anyone was permanently damaged because of me."

He shook his head.

"Never believe you are the cause of their wounds. It was I who gave the orders for the attack; that weight is upon my shoulders. Sooner or later we would have eradicated them in any case; finding you simply brought us upon their tracks at that time."

She nodded, but he could tell she did not completely believe she was blameless in the matter. In a way that pleased him; it was the sign of a leader to take responsibility for those around them.

"And how have you recovered?"

"My leg has healed for the most part, though it is not yet as comfortable as before. Our healer says that will pass with time."

She looked to the ground.

"The memories... they are fading."

She did not look as if they had stopped plaguing her though, and he wondered if her upcoming wedding had anything to do with that. However that was a far to intimate path of conversation to take, and he let the matter rest.

"I have to say I am curious," she confessed after a long moment, "What brought you to the races?"

"Your uncle convinced me it would be enjoyable and profitable for trade," he said. "Also the council of Elders deemed it an occasion for me to seek a wife."

He watched her face carefully while he spoke those words, but could not identify the emotion that briefly coloured her face.

"Speaking of the council, they wish it known that they have released you. I have an official writ, if you wish it."

She shook her head. "I would worry anyone found it. It is a relief though."

"For you are now able to marry Sahir?"

Her face fell suddenly, and he regretted bringing the subject up. It clearly didn't please her to think of it.

"I do not yet know if that will happen. He lowered the faridah, you see..."

He nodded. "Your uncle told me of it," he said gently.

"I expect his mother heard of my... adventure... and encouraged him to it."

"One who loved you would not have acted so, regardless of what his mother dictated," Ardeth said, unwilling to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Unexpectedly, Ester's temper turned.

"You speak highly of marriage out of love, yet that is not as common with your people as you would have me believe. Have you never been in a situation where any escape, imperfect as it may be, was more attractive than remaining where you were?"

Her eyes flashed with ire, and Ardeth realised that when it came to it, she was simply dealing with life as it came, without lofty dreams of perfection.

He inclined his head briefly. "I apologise for my intrusion. It is not my place to judge your decisions. It was my wish to see you happy that made me speak so."

Mollified, her face softened, and hesmiled at the similarity to her mercurial family.

She let out a long sigh, seeming small and very lost all of a sudden. He felt the unspeakably powerful urge to hold her, stroke her back, feel her head come to rest against his shoulder.

Once she had accepted that, welcomed it even. Now, though she seemed far more at ease with him, it was impossible. The limits of what he could do were set by decorum, and he already knew that these people took decorum very seriously indeed.

He clenched his hands, reminding himself that they were being watched and that any impropriety on his part would bring her into trouble. That did not take away the powerless feeling he experienced when seeing her so downcast.

One of the pups caught hold of the edge of his robe and tugged experimentally. Not wishing to see his formal robes victim to the sharp teeth, he picked up the pup and set it down between Ester and him to tickle it. Wiggling excitedly, it bounded out of his grasp and toward Ester, where it licked her hands, little tail wagging as if on a spring.

A smile broke through her sombre mood, and Ardeth silently thanked the pup for doing what he could not. She took it in her lap and lavished attention on it.

"I apologise," she said after a time, idly stroking the pup. "The decision to accept or refuse the new offer has not yet been made. It will depend on if Uncle Umayyad Kalifah is willing to let me remain in his household."

"A difficult time for you, then," he nodded his understanding. "Forgive me for causing you to dwell on it. I came to raise your spirits, not lower them!"

"Well then! Tell me of your quest for a wife!" she abruptly put her gloominess aside. "Has anyone caught your eye?"

She sounded like his sister all of a sudden, but there was a hint of forcedness in her smile.

"No. The council may wish me to look, but I do not think that I will find her here." Not wishing to dwell on this subject, he continued "However there are more reasons to enjoy this event. We will race tomorrow, both horses and camels, and there are many interesting merchants to provide my people with items they do not normally have access to."

He smiled when her interest was piqued.

"What races are you participating?"

"Mile and half-mile for full-grown stallions. I will race Athir myself on the mile."

"Amable participates on the mile, under my cousin Amjad. It will be interesting to see them face off!"

"It will indeed. Will we get the chance to see Khamaseen also?"

"We have entered him into the half-mile race, but I am not yet sure who will ride… He becomes so very difficult that I am uncertain if my leg will stand it."

The conversation drifted into the comfortable territory of horses, breeding, racing customs in regarding to horses and customs in general, in Egypt and Spain both.

It wasn't until he saw from the corner of his eye that Abdul-Jalil rose from his seating place, that he realised the visit had lasted for the better part of the afternoon.

"My lady, I must take my leave of you now," he smiled, and she seemed as surprised as he was by how much time had passed. He reached for her hands, and she gave them easily, clearly expecting him to bow over them. Instead he brought them up to his lips as he bowed, and brushed a kiss over the knuckles of each. Her eyes widened and he thought he felt a surprised breath brush past his ear.

He released her hands and straightened up.

"I wish you strength for the decisions that must come. Misa il khayr."

With that he left for his own camp.

Salaam 'alaykum wa raHmat allâhi wa barakaatu – greetings, and the mercy of God and his blessings.

Misa il khayr – good afternoon/evening.


	4. The Upside : chapter 4

The Upside

Chapter 4

* * *

By the time he approached his own camp the elation had faded.

What had he been thinking, kissing her hand? It had been a rare impulsive action, done before he could stop himself.

If he had been trying to avoid adding to her troubles, he had just failed most spectacularly. It had been undeniably improper.

His lips still were still heated from the contact with her skin.

Fouad hailed him when he approached the Medjai camp.

"Ardeth! Have you seen the explanation for the races of tomorrow? We may need to train on the starts tonight."

"I have not - I spent the afternoon in the camp of Imtiyaz. Has Nassar returned?"

"Aye, an hour ago. You spent the entire afternoon there?"

The man followed this with a meaningful silence, but Ardeth would not be drawn out.

"I will speak with Nassar at dinner."

"You change out of your robes, I'll take care of this dirtmonster," Fouad grinned. Athir was warm and would be sweaty under the saddleblanket – the first thing the horse would do when the saddle was taken off was hit the ground for a good roll.

With a pat on the shoulder of his mount Ardeth relinquished the reins.

He suddenly felt restless and ill at ease, trying not to dwell on the decisions Ester would have to make. It had to be the heavy ceremonial robes making him feel stifled. Taking a bowl and filling it with fresh, if lukewarm water he ducked into his tent to wash and change into his plain robes.

The cloth washed the grime of the day away, but it could not dissolve his agitation. He had greatly enjoyed the afternoon, but it had saddened him also. That someone he admired for her strength and perseverance should now be forced by circumstances, did not sit well with him. However most upsetting was the deep, burning hatred he felt toward that man Sahir. She had spoken well of the man before, when they were in the desert. Had even defended him when he, Ardeth, had questioned the match.

Now he had shown his true face, humiliated her publicly – and most of all, disappointed her high opinion of him.

He grimly decided that if a lady ever held him in such high esteem, he would die before he disappointed her.

The washcloth idly slid over his torso, from his throat to the tattoages over his solar plexus and back.

If Ester ever held him in such high esteem…

The revelation struck without warning, deep and hard and irreversible.

He loved her.

He _loved_ her.

The washcloth hung in the air, unmoving.

Before the Spring Races, he hadn't been lying to himself when he thought of her as a sister. He had sincerely put aside any interest in her for the sake of her comfort of mind.

He had let her go home, because what right did he have to keep her with him? It was best that she went home, to recover from her ordeal. He had been sad to see her go, but no more than that.

When had she changed so in his regard? By the time he had made his goodbyes this afternoon, the touch of her skin to his lips had been enough to make heat rise in his body. The soft gasp had caused his stomach to make a strange, sudden jump.

It had been the moment he saw her drum, the complete surrender to the music in her face. Somehow it had never featured in his thoughts of her that she could also be passionate, without inhibition, fearless.

Thunder had struck his heart in that moment.

And now?

He slid the rough cloth along his neck, fingering the leather thong that held his amulet in place. All Medjai received their amulet at birth, but it changed through the years to signify the changes in their positions. Each of the Medjai blacksmiths could do this, but Omar was the master, making beautiful amulets that were a true reflection of their wearer and were believed to carry powerful protective charms.

It was a familiar presence high on his chest, warmed by his bodyheat. He never took it off. The last time had been when it had been changed to reflect his new position as leader of the twelve tribes of the Medjai.

He felt so different that he almost thought it should be changed again.

A different man.

Someone he had feared he could never be.

The council of Elders had all but approved of the match, Fahyallah had said. In other circumstances, they would have supported it – she was of high status, strong, resourceful; fit to be the mother of leaders. Several of his warriors had spoken in her favour, testifying of her correctness during their travels and her strength of mind.

The council would grumble if he brought her back as his bride so soon after he had all but begged them to release her, but he suspected that overall they would be glad he had found someone to his liking.

He thought that she could settle herself with his people, find her place within Medjai society, grow to be happy there.

He should ask her, then.

Putting on plain robes, he considered that that was where things became complicated. In Medjai society marriage was a simple matter, but he was less at home in the complicated mores of these people. In theory she was in control of her own decisions, but in practise suitors went to the father or head of the family first to ask approval, only then to the lady in question.

Then again he wanted to know her wishes first. If she had no desire to go with him into the desert he would not want to offer her uncle another option to pressure his niece into.

How could he get to speak with her again? He doubted their long conversation this afternoon had not attracted attention, and he had no wish to bring evil rumours about.

A breath of insecurity fluttered in his stomach. If she did agree, for what reason would that be?

Because she held true affection for him, or because he offered her a way out of a difficult situation?

Now he knew the depth of his own feelings, it wasn't enough to have her agree because it was a way out for her. He wondered for a moment if it was possible that he elicited the same sort of feelings in her.

The scents of goat stew reached his nose and he forced his attention to other matters. Would the horses need to be trained that night? Nassar would know the particulars of the races tomorrow, they could decide together what was required. He was eager to hear if the other man had come to any sort of agreement with the brothers of Imtiyaz.

His entire group had gathered around the fire, talking and laughing and showing each other their purchases. Almost everybody had shopped and was sporting new garments, a great luxury when their normal life had little place for novelties.

"It seems I am the only one who has not indulged in shopping!" he greeted the group, and they welcomed him with cheers and laughter.

He seated himself next to Nassar and accepted the bowl of stew Ramin offered him.

"So, what of today, Nassar?"

He smiled fondly as the other man launched into a report of the day, telling of trade agreements, desirable mares and amazing stallions.

"Some of their yearlings!" Nassar gestured in the air, painting a picture of future mounts beyond even Ardeth's horse-fond vision. "They have a filly I would give my right arm for! She will be the dam of a line of horses so fine…" he sighed deeply, wistfully.

Ardeth laughed softly.

"And what do they ask for such a filly?"

"Alas, they know her value. Imtiyaz will not part with her were we to offer all that is to be found within the cursed place."

"Then she must be great indeed. Perhaps I will get the chance to see her yet. What of the races?"

"I was told they will use a new way of starting to avoid false starts in the shorter distances…" Nassar started.

The combinations were to line up in the middle of the track, turned toward the officials that would stand alongside the track. The officials would throw up a wooden disc and the side that lands upward would be the side the racers turned to. In starting this way the risk of false starts were eliminated, and no starter could accuse another of bias.

"We had best practise a few turns then…"

Later that night, listening to the nightly sounds of the huge camp, he cast his mind to the future. In four days there would be a wedding, much like the celebrations he could hear on the wind now.

Would he be here in his tent, listening to it as he did now? Or would he be part of it, would it be _their_ wedding?

There was nothing he wished for more. To see her stand next to him, her hand in his, as they were wed – it seemed no more than a fanciful dream. Yet he was certain… well perhaps not _certain_ but at least hopeful… that there was a chance. A chance that she might prefer the life he offered over that of being the wife of Sahir Taymullah.

A chance that she preferred _him_ over that man.

They could marry here for her family, the Medjai ceremony and celebrations would take place later. He could even send Nassar and the others ahead with the horses while he and Ester travelled with the camels at a more leisury pace. That would give the tribe time to prepare, as well as Ester some time to get used to the idea of it all.

It would also be enjoyable to simply spend some time with her, at ease, without pressure. It occurred to him that though they had travelled together, they really did not know that much about one another, and he was eager to rectify that situation.

He wished to play shatarang and see the tip of her tongue peek from between her lips as she considered her moves. He wished to speak without worry of being overheard. He wished to touch her hair without concern about impropriety.

He wished to hold her too, as he had once done when her grief was too deep to care about decorum. He had no doubt that she would come to appreciate such comfort from him again, and hopefully more in time.

He turned on his side and the motion shook him from the trail of thought. It was perhaps best not to think too far ahead, for it was no given that she would wish to wed him. What hurdles her family would raise was also uncertain, and considering the publicness of it all he wondered what their reaction would be.

He had to make sure he could speak to her in private, so that she would not feel forced to answer either which way. How he would find an opportunity to do that… well he could work that out tomorrow.

* * *

For some reason this story started itching. If you want to see updates, I recommend you put it in notify.

Cheers,  
Arwen


	5. The Upside : chapter 5

**_The Upside Chapter 5_**

_He let his fingers glide over her dark curls, stroking the pad of his finger over where they glowed red with henna in the late sunlight. The top of her head rested against his shoulder, her fingertips trailing the inside of his left arm, which rested along her side. It tickled a little._

_He felt his heart glow with pleasure at this simple moment; the natural way her head fitted against his shoulder and the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. She was finally winding down, the restlessness leaving her._

_As he stroked the fine hair at her temple her eyes drifted shut and a long sigh escaped her. He could feel the muscles in her back ease. Her head turned just slightly, giving him better access to her face._

_"Ardeth..?"  
_  
He woke with a start, an endearment dying on his lips.

"Ardeth? We must get ready for the races."

"Yes, yes. I will be up in a moment," he told Nassar, voice a little harsh with sleep and disorientation. The dream had been remarkably vivid, and he needed a moment to adjust to reality. In the waking world, that lovely situation and the peace and happiness he had felt were not a given.

He could hope it would come to pass, though.

As expected there were masses of riders about. Most of them wouldn't race, but those who had a mount would not want to appear to be one of the common people without horses.

Athir, thrilled by the scents on the wind, jigged and bugled. Ardeth just smiled, amused by the uncharacteristic behaviour of his horse. It rather reminded him of how Athir had been the first few times under saddle.

There were many different races, but today was host to the most spectacular ones, where the breeding stables went head to head: first studs on the mile, then studs on the half-mile. Knowing that Athir's strength lay in stamina, Ardeth had signed up for the mile-long race.  
How well their chances lay he could not tell. If the horses he had seen with Imityaz were a common standard, a position in the middle would be something to be proud of. Not winning did not concern him in the least; Athir had long proven himself to beyond excellence in their daily work. He doubted many of the Nile valley horses could hold up under the usual circumstances the Medjai horses withstood.  
Slowly, out of the din, the stables came forward. Each was represented by a sizeable group, family colours clearly present. The riders could be recognised by the way the lithan was wrapped, a thin veil included that would be drawn up over the eyes to protect them from the sand.

Ardeth lead his people forward to join the line of participants. They made sure to keep some distance from the next group, which had several horses in a sour mood, ears pinned back and ready to kick anyone that came within range. The racing horse among them was a grey, not exceptionally well-built but with a sinewy strength to him. Its rider was having his hands full as the stud tried to bite at any horse that came too close.

Ardeth made a mental note to keep away from this one during the race.

The next group over had a fine bay horse calmly waiting for things to come. The casual eye might conclude it was somewhat sedate, but though the line of its face showed it wasn't young, there was power in the stance of the hind legs. Something told Ardeth not to dismiss this opponent.

The next group again was Imityaz, out in full force. In front stood Amable, larger than the others, eager, powerful. In the saddle was the same young man that had ridden the horse in the parade. Beside him were Abdul-Jalil and, to Ardeth's surprise, Ester. She rode a fine grey mare and lead along Khamaseen, who was remarkably quiet given the situation.

The 2-mile track ran around the lake, marked by small flags and lined by spectators. Messengers and family members rode off to the midpoint, which would be the finish regardless of what side of the track the race would be held on. Ramin wondered aloud if the crowd on the side that wasn't used would not be bothered.

Those who witnessed the start would not see the finish, and part of the contingents started to leave for the finish point. Ester went with them, the edges of her veil fluttering in the wind as the white mare cantered.

When the riders were asked to find their positions on the track Ardeth counted fourteen, nine of which he considered serious contenders. The rules of the race were explained once again. Calls went out to clear the track on both sides.

A hush came over the vast camp. Representatives of the largest stables gathered before the starting line. The riders lined up the horses properly, heads facing the small cluster of elderly men. Veils were pulled over the eyes, outer robes discarded. Helpers left the track.

Ardeth felt the tension coil in the hindquarters of his horse.  
A small round disc was thrown up. He followed its arc through the air, which seemed to take far longer than was normal. It landed amidst the representatives, and the cry went "Yimeen!"

He pressed his left leg and felt Athir turn right, muscles bunching, and with a huge leap they were off. The whole group was just ahead, but as his horse gathered speed he left them behind. Still ahead of them – far further than he thought possible – were three horses that were evidently more used to this starting technique. He recognised the light bay colour of Amable; the other two were grey.

Athir, the kind of horse that found inspiration in the sight of those ahead of him, threw his weight forward and seemed determined to catch up.

Sand flew into his face and he was glad of the fabric shielding his eyes. One of the greys finally let go of the leaders and he could feel the thrill of his horse when they passed it. However the two leading racers could not be passed.

Behind him he heard a rider call encouragements to his horse in a last effort to get ahead, but Athir called upon reserves hitherto unknown, and finished a fine third.  
Close behind him came five others, three more came in soon, and three others had apparently given up. When Athir slowed down he looped back to the group that stood at the finish.

Nassar approached with a huge grin on his face.

"He has proven himself once again! And among the finest the Nile valley has to offer, no less. A great race indeed!"

Ardeth agreed, one hand stroking the mane of his horse. He tried to hold up a conversation with the members of his tribe, all the while keeping an eye on the Imityaz group. The son of Abdul-Jalil was welcomed joyfully, congratulated with his victory. He dismounted, as did Ester, and the young man mounted the grey mare while Ester rode Khamaseen, leading Amable along.

"I will leave Amable with Dhakwan," she called back as she rode out of the group, back along the track to the start.

"…the Al-Hadi family congratulate--"

"—excuse me," he interrupted Adel's enthusiastic story. "I have to speak with someone."

He saw eyebrows rise as he turned his horse and rode away, but dismissed it. If the outcome was favourable, they would know soon enough what he was about to do now. If it was not – well, he did not have to clarify every thing he did.

He caught up with her some distance away from the groups at the finish and guided Athir to walk next to her.

"Ardeth! Congratulations on your race!" she seemed surprised but above all pleased to see him, and he felt his heart leap with hope.

"Allow me to accompany you back to the starting point," he said with a half-bow. "A lady such as you should not ride alone as if no man wishes to take this honour upon him!"

He wondered for the briefest of moments if she would find this offensive, as if it implied she required protection – but she inclined her head in acceptance of the courtesy it was meant to be.

"May I congratulate you with your champion horse?"

She nodded in acknowledgement, but there was no happiness in her face. Noticing his regard, she suddenly looked at him and forced a smile.

"Forgive my sadness; it was indeed a good win. I am but sad that it was not Amal on his back."

He did not know what to say. After a moment of indecision he guided Athir closer to her horse and laid a gentle hand on her arm. She glanced down, surprised, but did not pull away.

"I wish I could have met him. He must have been a great man."

"Yes…" she turned her face away, and he thought he saw tears shine in her eyes. Releasing her he gave her a moment, trying to think of a subtle way to change the subject.

There was no need, for with one of the typical shifts of mood she looked back up.

"Tell me! How is your quest for a wife coming along?"

A smile went with the words, and there was a hint of teasing in her voice. That she could ask him this so innocuously quelled the low-level thrill of simply being in her presence. Did she not consider herself one of the candidates? As he has tried to see her as a sister, had she placed him into the role of brother? How had he missed this, had thought that she was attracted to him?

"I think that I've… that I've found her," he said after a long moment, trying to block the rising tide of uncertainty. Nothing was yet certain.

She did not immediately congratulate him as he half expected. Her answer took a moment in coming, and he imagined that there was just a hint of disquiet in her voice.

"That is well. My congratulations."

When she looked away, he asked  
"And yourself? You do not seem thrilled as a bride to be should be."

That was an obvious statement, but he wanted to lure her out, so that she might speak her mind to him.

"You know I am not thrilled. My family is divided. There were those who objected to the match from the beginning, who now find it outrageous that I should marry a man who so publicly seeks to lower my status. They find it preferable that I not marry at all. Then there are those who prefer that I be away from our house, for I remind them of their grief for Amal's passing…"

"And what would you prefer?"

She still would not look at him, trailing a hand along the mane of her horse. A deep sigh passed her lips, and finally she shrugged. "I do not know. Neither option attracts me, and I weary of the arguing over my head. I find myself rather longing back for the silence of that oasis!"

His heart constricted in sympathy. For her to wish back to those days full of pain and loneliness, she had to be unhappy indeed. It steeled his resolve to say what he was about to say, though he still did not know how to bring across that he was saying it for the right reasons.

They were now well away from anyone who might wish to listen in, the horses lowering their heads as they calmed and regained their breath after the race. If there was ever a right moment, this was it.

"I think I have found the lady I wish to be my wife," he repeated, his insistent tone making her look up from her inner turmoil. Then, unable to contain his smile as he looked at her. "Ester Imtiyaz Il Fernández, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Her eyes widened with shock.  
"You… You would do that? Even after…" she made an undetermined gesture, referring back to what had happened to her.

"I would. To me, and to my people, it matters not."

She stared down to the mane of her horse. He hoped she was considering his offer. Seconds felt like years while he awaited her answer.

"I—I…" she did not look at him when she began to speak, and he felt hope fade.

"You do not wish this?" he asked gently, prepared to speak the words for her if she was unable to. Anything to let this moment pass as soon as he could. Clearly he had misinterpreted the situation to think she might return his feelings.

"No!" she looked at him now. "I meant to say… yes!" she gave up, tangled in the words, and brought her horse closer to his to briefly touch his arm.

"I do… I want that."

Then, just when he felt his heart might burst with elation and words hitherto unspoken threatened to escape his lips, she added:

"I'm not so sure if it truly is an honour for you though," with a wry grin on her lips.

"Never say that," he corrected her gently. "It is a _great_ honour for me."

They rode in silence for a while, stirrups nearly close enough to touch. Ardeth wondered what she was thinking of, if this new version of the future pleased her. For his part his heart sung, yet he knew he would not completely believe this turn of events until she was with him when they rode back into the desert. He turned his mind to the practicalities that were needed to make that happen.

"When would be a good moment to speak with your uncle?"

"Tonight he will attend a wedding…tomorrow morning would be suitable."

He nodded. He'd have the rest of the day to make arrangements. One more thing he needed to know…

"Forgive me for asking about this… what is the mahr you originally agreed upon with that man Sahir?"

She named the sum, eyes fastened upon the ears of her horse.

Ardeth schooled his expression, not wishing to display his shock. For someone of her status is was little indeed, and though mahr was mostly symbolic in this situation, since Ester owned horses of her own, this symbol was a calculated slap in the face. To think the man had wished to lower it further… It was a humiliation, plain and simple, and he understood more than ever why Abdul-Jalil had been so opposed to that match.

He wished circumstances allowed for a brief visit to the camp of this Sahir, to explain to the man the error of his ways.

"Shameful. I shall strive to excuse him, for he was obviously ignorant of your many qualities and could not value you as I do," he said smoothly. "I had thought to offer you at least twice that. Could that gain your approval?"

She just nodded, and it was clear that she did not consider this part of the agreement more than a formality. He couldn't blame her; once out in the desert her reputation in the Nile valley would be of little consequence. If she wanted to go with him to become a Medjai, then that life would be important, not the mahr that she received as part of the agreement.

He understood her point of view, but did not share it. For one thing, a low mahr would reflect back on him and the Medjai; which in turn would affect the status they held in this world of horse breeders and traders. For another, he wished not to squander her reputation by letting her give herself away for such a low price. She might not care, but he wished to show the rest of the world how he valued her. If she ever visited her family, he wished her to be received well, not as the troublesome daughter they had finally managed to shed to the desert.

Not that she needed to know that at this moment.

They rode in comfortable silence, and he wondered again what was on her mind. The sudden change of how the future could turn out? How her family would react to this news? How his people would accept her? Or was she simply preparing herself for the race?

They were approaching the starting point, and Khamaseen raised his head, clearly recognising the situation. Ester smiled at the thrill coursing through her horse, and Ardeth, the reality of her 'yes' beginning to sink in, could not help but smile along.

The future could bring many things. For once, looking at his bride to be, he thought it might bring happiness – for them both.

* * *

_To be continued. _

Yimeen - right  
shimaal - left


	6. The Upside : Chapter 6

_The Upside_

_Chapter 6_

* * *

There were some Looks as they arrived together at the starting point, but the faces of the Imtiyaz group were curious, not hostile.

He had created some space between their horses and gallantly bade her  
good fortune for her race. Ardeth thought he saw a look pass between some of her family members, but no one seemed to find anything untoward.

The same could not be said for the competing riders and their groups, he noted. There were some whispers that did not sound kind, and in the back of one group someone made a disgusted gesture. He felt his expression harden. Ester lifted her chin as she pulled a thin veil before her face.

The riders lined up, Ester joining the formation last, because her horse knew what was about to come and could hardly contain itself. Its entire body was awash with tension, heavy muscles in its hindquarters bunched, neck arched, nostrils wide. Impressive besides the smaller competition, but dangerous, ears pinched back, an unholy light to its eye.

He suddenly understood why Ester refused to let the horse stand to stud.

The disc tumbled through the air, the direction rang out, and the horses were gone. As the first dustcloud thinned Ardeth could tell that the grey horse was already ahead. Two, three great leaps and it had reached a breakneck speed - and still it sped up. Ester leant low over its neck, a hand in the mane.

It struck him then what strength she had, what joy to live. He had grown to know one side of her during their time in the desert, but she was so much more. A woman of the Medjai needed to be able to build her home, and defend it. To lead her family, and nurture it. To stand equal with her husband in the harsh wind of the desert. She could do this, he knew.

He all but glowed at the knowledge that she had agreed to be his wife.

Athir jigged impatiently, finding it hard to stand still while others raced away from him. Ardeth put his hand forward and allowed him into a canter along the track, all the while keeping his eyes on the racers.

Then from the corner of his eyes he saw a brown flash cross the track, and the grey horse, still in the lead, shot away sideways, twisting into the air and landing awkwardly into an almost complete stop. The rider was flung from the saddle with a sickeningly wide arch.

Ardeth had already fired Athir into a gallop, trying to quell panic as he saw her tumbling through the air. She landed hard on the dried bedding of the track, and he imagined he could hear bones crunch. All sound was lost among the thundering of the hooves of the approaching racers. Her body rolled to a stop, not moving, and he could but hope that the other riders could avoid her crumpled body, that she would not be trampled.

They passed her, leaving a cloud of dust that obscured all sight. Was she-- His ears pounded with the noise of his blood. _Please God, please no. Leave her here, with me. Please, Allah, be merciful._

Athir rushed on, and gradually Ardeth could see again. She still lay where she landed, unmoving. To his growing anger the spectators, no more than thirty paces away from her, had not moved. They were simply watching, as if it was a show performed for their entertainment.

He reined in his horse and swung down before it had even come to a halt. Then, so close, he slowed his steps, suddenly afraid of what he would find. Her blue robes were smudged with dirt, one arm flung up over her head. His heart ached when he saw her face, dust sticking to where wind-tears had wet it.  
Dropping to his knees next to her, he found his hand hovering over her for a long moment before he settled on touching her cheek.

"Ester... Ester? Please speak to me..."

Her eyelids trembled, and his heart contracted painfully. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, encouraging her.

"Ow..." she murmured finally, and he smiled in relief. "That hurts.."

It was a weak voice, and her breath came short, but it sounded like music to his ears.

"Thank Allah..." he whispered. He wished for more words, but his throat was still burning with panic slow to let go.

Her eyes drifted open, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips. He caressed the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

"Did I fall?"

"You do not remember?"

"I was.." she seemed to grasp around for the memory, and he fervently wished it would come to her. A concussion, no matter how light..

"..riding.. wasn't I?" she sounded confused, and he stroked her forehead, comforting her. "What happened?"

"A dog startled your horse and you fell, Ester."

"It did?" it was clear she had no memory of it.

He heard hoofbeats and calls, and looking up he saw four riders of Imityaz approach. Abdul-Jalil and his son came straight toward them, while the other two tried to catch Khamaseen. Ardeth realised with something of horror that the stallion was still leaping about wildly, the slack body of a brown dog swinging from its mouth as it shook its head.

Ester's eyes had drifted shut again. He sat back, knowing it fell to her family to care for her now.

"Is she awake?" the young man asked as Abdul-Jalil knelt with her and quickly, carefully checked for broken bones.

"Yes, but she does not remember what happened..." Ardeth said, acutely aware that he was a stranger, at best a new family friend. Not that her uncle seemed to care.

They gently rolled her onto her back. She gasped in pain, but her eyes were open again, searching until they found his face. Propriety demanded that he go no closer, did not touch her again now her kin was present to care for her. It tore at his heart, and he thought he saw in her eyes that she wished him closer.

"Son, ride quickly to get a stretcher. That grey mare will pull it," Abdul-Jalil said without looking up. "And have Amable brought here."

The young man mounted and sped off in the direction of their camp.

"Ardeth...?"

Her breath was still short, but her voice sounded more certain now. Abdul-Jalil looked up at Ardeth, clearly wondering what role the Medjai played in the life of his niece. Then, after a moment of silence, he gave a tiny nod. Permission to go to her. Ardeth wondered what the man thought of the situation, but not for long. He knelt down close to Ester and took her hand, wishing he had the power to take her pain away.

Close by a voice cursed the grey horse, and both the men watched as it reared up high, clawing at those who tried to catch it. The dead dog lay nearby, neck snapped, body mangled.

"The horse is insane," Abdul-Jalil shook his head.

"He.." she looked for a moment like she wanted to protest, but then she blinked, eyes going from his face to that of her uncle.

"What happened?"

Abdul-Jalil shared a look with Ardeth.

"You were racing, my lady, when a dog startled your horse," he said.

"What fool lets a dog run onto the track?" her uncle said under his breath.

Ardeth had wondered that. The few dogs present in the camp had been brought by breeders. From what he had seen most had carefully tethered them within the camps to make sure they could not disturb the races. How had this dog - no stray or wild dog from what he could see - been able to get onto the track?

He could tell her uncle was thinking along the same lines. His face grew grim. The words didn't need to be said out loud.

_A deliberate fool  
_  
He had heard that the grey horse had won the sprint races since the first time it participated, and that certain stables had suggested it should be retired, since it did not stand to stud.

Anger grew within Ardeth that someone was willing to risk lives to win the race. He swallowed it away, knowing this was not the moment.

"Shoulder and ribs bruised... Nothing seems to be broken," the older man concluded his examination. Then, to Ardeth's surprise: "You will stay with her? I must help them catch that horse."

He nodded quickly, and the man left to assist the others.

"Ardeth?"

He turned his attention back to Ester, giving her a small smile. He knew it came out rather tight and worried, but she didn't seem to notice.

"What happened?"

"You fell, my Lady. I think you have a concussion."

"Oh."

She blinked slowly, as if this was completely new to her. He was familiar with the way a concussion could play havoc on the short time memory.

"Are you going to bring me home?"

He wondered if she thought she was back in the desert, away from here family - and where the home was she referred to.

"Your cousin has gone to get a stretcher. They will bring you to your tent in the camp of your family."

"Oh." He hid a smile as she looked thoughtful for a long moment.

"We're at the Spring Races."

It was somewhere between a statement and a question, and he nodded.

"And I fell."

"Yes."

That seemed to satisfy her, and she tilted her head just slightly, leaning her cheek against his hand. He felt a thrill at the trust that spoke from that gesture. He didn't know when, but it seemed that somewhere along the way she had found faith in him.

The shouting close by and the sound of hard hoofbeats revived the image of her fall, and he shuddered in recollection, trying to banish the memory.

"I'm well.."

Her fingertips trailed over the back of his hand, drawing him back to reality. He looked down on her, wryly amused that she noticed his worry. His eyes were fastened on hers, and he felt as if his entire reality narrowed down to this. She was alive, she was all right, she'd said yes.

"All right then, let's get you to our camp," Abdul-Jalil said from some distance away. Giving them warning of his approach, Ardeth observed. That meant that the man probably knew, or at least suspected, that there was more going on than an acquaintance based on their adventure in the desert. Then again, as bold as he had been about being in her company, it would be a miracle if the man was the only one who knew.

He stroked Ester's cheek with his thumb and withdrew his hand, giving her family space to move her onto the makeshift stretcher they had brought.

He heard the bay horse Amable neigh, and some way away the grey horse finally calmed, and suffered itself to be lead away.

He watched the group walk away as the sun rose. It was already stiflingly hot. Temperatures rose to unbearable heights around midday, and then the sun achieved what the middle of the night could not do: merchants silenced, horses slumbered, children ceased their endless playgames. The entire camp retreated to its tents and shelters, and silence sank down like a blanket.

Perhaps it would be best to attend to the Imtiyaz camp in the evening, so that he could ask for her hand and - he held no thought for the possibility that he might be refused - make arrangements for the wedding.

Athir gently nudged his hands, perhaps wondering why his master stood there as he did. Ardeth finally tore his gaze away from the stretcher in the distance and mounted his horse.

He had finished third in his race - a great achievement against these seasoned horses and riders - and his lady had agreed to marry him.

He had reasons to be glad, but he knew he could not truly feel that until she was with him as his wife when he rode away from this place. It would be a long few days.

* * *

_To be continued_


	7. The Upside : Chapter 7

Chapter 7 / day 4

_The Upside_

_Chapter 7_

* * *

"I am the leader of the twelve tribes of the Medjai; a thousand warriors ride under my command," Ardeth said. "I realise that at the races we appear as simply a tribe of nomads, but we are an age-old society with a sophisticated culture. That I wish for Ester to be my wife, and mother of future leaders, shows nothing but my highest regard for her."

He had expected to meet some resistance when asking for her hand – no family wished to appear eager to marry off its daughters. However Umayyad Kalifah Imtiyaz reminded him more and more of his father as the conversation drew on. The man sat opposite him with an impassive expression, and it had taken four cups of mint tea for the conversation to come to the point. Then Umayyad had asked one simple question – why should he let his niece be taken into the desert by a group of well-dressed nomads?

Abdul-Jalil was also present, now and then adding a comment. He was clearly in favour of this match, but for the most part he said nothing, letting Ardeth plead his case.

Ardeth wondered if the head of the Imtiyaz family was truly concerned about where Ester would end up if he gave his blessing to the union, or if he wanted to be convinced for the form of the matter.

"I have come to care for her deeply, and even if we should not be wed, I hope you will give Sahir Taymullah the treatment he deserves for insulting Ester and your family. His actions are nothing short of shameful – he certainly does not deserve to have a lady such as her by his side."

Finally that seemed to strike a chord, because Umayyad nodded slowly.

"I agree that she deserves far more than Taymullah. It remains to be seen however, if you are deserving of her."

Abdul-Jalil broke the silence. "Would you not agree, brother, that he has much to offer to Ester and to our family? The trade relations could be very profitable for both of us."

"That may be so," Umayyad admitted slowly.

"As for if he is deserving, why don't we ask her?" Abdul-Jalil inserted before there could be another endless discussion on the merits of the Medjai and life in the desert. "I will get her."

"You have spent time with her and she thinks highly of you," Umayyad said while the other man walked away. Ardeth realised that her uncle had not asked her about her time in the desert with him, and she had not volunteered any information. Umayyad clearly thought this was best for all concerned.

"And I hold the highest regard for her," he assured the other man. "The very highest."

Then he smoothly rose to his feet to greet Ester as she approached with her uncle. She walked a little careful after her fall the other day, but didn't seem to have any ill effects from it.

He took her hands into his own, caressing the back of her hands with his thumbs as he bowed deeply. For such a formal gesture it still made his entire body feel warmer just for touching her. Her eyes widened a fraction as he gave her the slightest of smiles, and he thought perhaps the effect on her was the same.

"Ukht-bint, Ardeth Bay of the Medjai asks for you hand in marriage," Abdul-Jalil introduced them formally. She nodded, her face showing no emotion. "Are you interested in the possibility of a union?"

"I am."

Ardeth found himself glad that he had spoken to her yesterday and that he already knew that she wanted to marry him, because before her uncle she was emotionless, with no indication of if the idea of the marriage pleased her. Umayyad nodded.

"Excellent," Abdul-Jalil said cheerfully.

"There is not yet an agreement on the faridah," Umayyad pointed out.

Ester opened her mouth to say something, and Ardeth caught her eyes to give a tiny shake of his head. He spoke instead of her, naming his offer.

He had done some careful asking around and found out the approximate faridah given to the daughter of one of the other high status Nile Valley families. Then he'd doubled the amount. It was more than eight times the faridah Sahir Taymullah had offered her at the time she accepted his proposal.

Within the Medjai the faridah rarely took to such amounts, but the council had discussed the possibilities when they had urged him to look for a wife at the Spring Races, so this was within his options. Since Medjai women inherited from their mothers, the money would also be an investment into the future of his daughters and their daughters.

"…also I would offer you a foal bred to your liking from any of our horses, and with your family I would like to enter into an exchange arrangement for bloodlines."

He hid his satisfaction at the subtly stunned reaction of Umayyad and calmly waited for an answer.

"I accept," Ester said as her uncles exchanged looks. After a moment, the older man gave a slight nod.

Ardeth let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Rationally he had not been worried about if she would accept, but still those two words unwound a tight coil in his stomach.

"Very well," Abdul-Jalil recovered first. "When shall the ceremony take place?"

Ardeth waited for Ester to say something, but she didn't seem to be particularly bothered about the details of the wedding.

"I would suggest on the last day of the Races," he spoke up, his eyes fixed on hers. "Once we arrive at the Medjai base camp there will be a second ceremony, but this is the chance to celebrate our wedding," he felt his heart leap as he said that, "with your family."

* * *

It was not until that evening, when the Medjai gathered around the fire, that he let anyone in on what had transpired over the past few days.

It wasn't that he had wished to keep secrets from his people; between Ester's fall and the arrangements with her family the wedding had simply been uncertain. Now that she seemed to recover and arrangements had been made for the cereony, he felt confident enough that the entire scenario wouldn't fade away as soon as he spoke about it.

"You had best prepare for a wedding," he told them. "It will be the day after tomorrow."

This caused a satisfying shockwave among his people. The only one who had had cause to suspect this announcement was Omar, and the man had not yet returned from the communal forges – in all likelihood he was still working on one of the several pieces Ardeth had requested that afternoon.

"Well, tell us! Who is the lucky lady?" Abdul-Rahim broke the silence.

"You know her already. Ester Imtiyaz Il Fernández."

He saw Fouad nod, as if this was a confirmation of what he had suspected.

"Is she not betrothed?"

"She broke it off," he answered Yamira. In fact Ester had been quite annoyed with her uncles when they had decided that it would be better if they handled it, and that streak of vindictiveness had both startled and amused him. Thinking of the pain and humiliation the man had caused her it was really no surprise that she had wanted to return some of that feeling.

However, as rumour had it her uncles had taken care of that; Sahir Taymullah had packed up his camp that afternoon and left the gathering. He wondered if she felt triumphant.

He watched the group as they processed this news, and was pleased to find no disapproval of his choice. Many of the men had already met her, or heard of her, and they knew she was no spoilt princess unfit for desert life. As for the others, she would have to convince those herself.

When everybody settled down they discussed the wedding and what needed to be arranged around it. He'd already decided that in two days they would be wedded in the style of the Nile valley, with a proper Medjai wedding when they arrived back with at the base camp.

Ester had confided in him that while she was not interested in a large celebration, in her family anything below two hundred and fifty guests would be considered hushing it up.

They had both concluded that it might not be worth the effort to fight her family on this – after all; after the ceremony she would be Medjai, and it was the Medjai custom that the newly wed couple retreated to the tent that was now their family tent once the ceremony was over.

In truth it was more of a tradition and in no way binding, but he was perfectly prepared to use it as an excuse to get Ester and himself away from the celebrations afterward. And in fact there was a small ritual as they entered their tent for the first time, to call the favour of Allah onto their family home.

"Congratulations," Fouad grinned. "I do believe you are the first man to marry one woman as his first AND second wife!"

* * *

___to be continued_


	8. The Upside : Chapter 8

_The Upside_

_Chapter 8_

* * *

On the fifth day of the Spring Races, Ardeth rose early to go to the communal forgery. Omar wanted to show him a design for Ester's Medjai amulet. They made some minor adaptations, and he bought some small pieces from a young jewelry maker who experimented with folded metal. He knew that Ester rarely wore jewelry out of practicality, but he liked the idea of her having the earrings and matching bracelet as signs of his appreciation of her.

To his surprise he found he'd enjoyed buying her something, and when he wandered through the market stalls on his way back to the camp he bought some more things for her and for their life together. Practical things, but for someone not used to shopping it felt like indulging. He arranged for the bed mat and the silver teapot to be brought to his camp when the engravings on the teapot were ready.

Then he found his eyes drawn to a riding coat modelled on a straw puppet. It was a deep dark blue, the colour of the Medjai ceremonial robes, and the embroidery around the collar and wrists was in white. It had a deep hood, and the length was to just above the knees. It wasn't Medjai, but it would fit in.

It was perfect for her.

When he had the coat and matching veil wrapped in plain fabric in his arms, he walked straight back to the camp before he could be tempted by more things. He had never been interested in buying things for himself, but he found himself thinking about her joining him in his tent and he liked the idea of having new things to start their life together with. Things that weren't his but theirs. Perhaps before they left the Races they could go to the market together.

As he walked back to the Medjai camp he wondered how her day was going.

That question was answered when Fouad greeted him on his arival.

"Ardeth, a message came for you. Here."

He was handed a folded sheet of paper, sealed with a dollop of red wax and an Imtiyaz seal. Opening it, he was relieved to find Ester's fine, regular script. He smiled at the little drawings of running horses and dancing people in the margins.

___Dear Ardeth_

___My aunts have decided that since there is now a wedding worth celebrating, I should adhere to tradition and not see you before tomorrow. I thought I could at least write to you. I will see if Yussuf can bring this message. He is utterly fascinated with your people. _

___I wanted to thank you for your patience yesterday and for offering my family a option that saves honour._

He noticed with a frown that her own honour did not seem to have her interest. He would have to talk to her about that before they reached the Medjai base camp. His lady had the highest status, and she needed to project that or his people would find it hard to accept her as the wife of their leader.

___I'm afraid that my aunts have run away with this wedding not unlike a herd of stampeding horses, and that not much could stop them or even change direction. However if you feel that we should have a Medjai part in the ceremony then I will do my best to see that come to pass. For my part I don't care to expend the energy to resist them – it is the last day of my life they will have influence on. I have bought a wedding veil, and the rest they can organise without me. Already I look forward to riding into the desert with you._

___How have your people reacted to the news? Are there ceremonies in the Medjai camp when we arrive there tomorrow night, anything I should be prepared for? _

___Until tomorrow,_

___Ester_

Ardeth poured himself tea and studied the letter for a few moments, noticing the tone alternating between exasperation at her family and uncertainty about the new situation she would soon be in. She knew more about living with the Medjai than any other outsider, but she knew little about their ceremonies.

He sought out Nassar to borrow a sheet of the heavy paper that they used to trace breeding lines, and sat down to write an answer to his lady. The simple act of writing her a letter made him smile. It felt like she was hundreds of miles away instead of in a tent he could probably see through his binoculars.

___My Lady,_

___We are in agreement that it is the marriage that is important, not the wedding – yet I find myself hoping that you will have a good memory for the future, not a day you wish to pass as quickly as possible. _

___The wedding tomorrow will be the official ceremony and I am happy to see it take place according to the customs of your family. Once we arrive in the Medjai base camp there will be another ceremony- and a lot of festivities. I cannot expect to marry without much celebration among the twelve tribes. For that we will have plenty of time to prepare outselves as we travel to the base camp, and I will tell you all about what to expect. _

___As for tomorrow I ask only that you wear no jewelry, for Omar has made the amulet that you will wear from the moment you become Medjai. I will wear my ceremonial garb, as will my people. _

___After we are wedded we will go to my camp; there is only a small ritual between us as my tent becomes our tent. _

___When do you wish to move your possessions across? I intend to break up camp tomorrow and leave directly after the wedding. We will travel with the camel group and make use of the night to get on our way. Most of my people will travel ahead with the horses. It would be good if you packed one bag with things you wish to have with you during the ten days it will take to get to base camp. _

___My people were surprised and pleased at hearing the news. Please know that you are welcome here._

___Fouad will wait for your reply._

___Until tomorrow,_

___Ardeth_

He managed to talk Fouad into playing messenger, and then, needing something to occupy his mind, went to take stock of the things that needed to happen before they could leave the Races tomorrow evening.

It was dinner time before he saw Fouad again.

"Did you speak to her?"

"For quite a while."

Ardeth squashed the brief flare of jealousy at his second in command, who was allowed to see her when he wasn't. It was good that she knew some of his people – it would be easier to ride into the base camp knowing that there would be some familiar faces.

Now he thought of it, he could perhaps ask Yamira and Adiva to visit her tonight.

"How are things in her camp?"

"Hectic. Her aunts have turned it into a huge celebration."

Fouad handed over a sheet of folded paper.

___Dear Ardeth,_

___I am glad to hear that we will have some time to ourselves before we arrive with your people. I may also need the ten days to re-learn riding a camel so that I do not embarrass myself! _

___It pleases me to depart directly after the ceremony – not in the least because it thwarts my aunts' ideas of a wedding night ritual. My things can be brought over in the morning. There are four bags. Should I also have my horses sent over then? _

___Your Ester_

He smiled at the sign-off.

"Was she busy?"

"No, in fact she was bored and all too happy to see me."

Ardeth nodded and looked around.

"Where are the women?"

"Behind there," Fouad nodded toward a curtain. "No doubt grumbling about last minute weddings."

Ardeth grinned. It normally fell to the bride to make the wedding cover, a large blanket embroidered with protective symbols. It stood symbol of their union and gave its blessing over their married life. Because Ester was not Medjai, and would not have had time regardless, Yamira and Adiva were now feverishly working on the minimum symbols demanded by tradition for the wedding night. Ester could fill the decorative patterns in later.

He headed over to where the two women were working, needles flashing as they chatted about the upcoming festivities. They greeted him good-naturedly, hands never stopping their work.

"Could I implore on you to visit Ester in the Imtiyaz camp?" he said. "She could help you, and I think she would like to meet you both."

The women exchanged a glance and then nodded.

"Certainly. Will we be able to enter the camp?"

"I will send Fouad with you, he is known there."

A short time later he watched his second in command accompany the women as they left for the Imtiyaz camp, and sighed. Today, it seemed, his intended and he were both in waiting, with little to occupy themselves with and restless for the ceremony tomorrow. He wondered if Ester was nervous, regretting her choice perhaps. Her letters indicated only the first, but a letter need not show the heart of the writer. At least he was able to offer her company, someone to put her heart at ease about the life she was about to step in to.

He hoped that while she was not eager for the wedding, she was happy about her choice for the life he offered, and that she returned his feelings. He knew that that last was not a given; his proposal had offered her a way out of a difficult situation, and there was no indication that she held profound feelings for him.

He hoped that she did.

Or that if she didn't, that they might grow.

Later that night he was assured that Adiva and Yamira had spent time with Ester and had spoken with her about the practicalities of life with the Medjai. Two men would bring her things and her horses to the Medjai camp at dawn. His people had packed everything that would not be needed tomorrow and sorted it to go with the horse group or with the slower camels.

In short, all seemed ready.

He almost wished that it wasn't, so there would be things to arrange, something to occupy his mind. He stared into the fire, fervently wishing that at this time tomorrow, he would be sitting with Ester, miles away from the Races.

"Ardeth, we are going to the Al-Hadi camp to pick up the camel mares we negotiated," Nassar said, and Ardeth bit down on his startled reaction. He'd hadn't even heard the other man approach.

He grasped eagerly at the opportunity to distract himself.

"I'll go with you," he rose to his feet. Nassar nodded.

Half an hour later they were admiring the three young camel mares Nassar had traded against the young camel bull and the horse that were of blood lines he did not want to continue to breed. Ardeth hid a satisfied smile, because it was a good trade. The mares were of the elegant white breed that was favoured by the nomadic peoples – a rare find in the Nile Valley, especially in this condition. They were sweet-tempered and fat with reserve built up grazing in the Nile Valley.

"Will they be able to stand the journey?" he asked under his breath. Nassar knew his business, but Ardeth was used to travelling with camels in working condition.

"I mainly intend these to breed with." Nassar patted the nose of the nearest camel. "And I thought you intended to travel slowly with your lady," he added with the hint of a smile.

Ardeth shot his friend a half-annoyed look. A lot of his people had made semi-innocent remarks concerning the time he intended to spend alone with Ester. Omar had even mentioned a detour. Not that they would be alone – two of the men would travel with them to handle the herd of camels. If it could be avoided, one did not travel alone in the desert, and alone with an inexperienced traveller was far from ideal. Deep in the desert, safety was in numbers.

He hadn't decided yet which men it would be. Most of them wanted to go ahead with the horses so they would be the ones bearing the news of his marriage.

They lingered over tea and sweet pastries with Muhammed bin Sarouk Al-Hadi, a new friend and valued contact in the Medjai's quest to breed the animals that were best suited to the nomadic lifestyle. They had a reputation among the desert peoples for excellent livestock, and Ardeth and Nassar were always out to maintain that record.

"You will come to my wedding tomorrow, I hope?" Ardeth said when the conversation turned to their return to the desert.

"With the Imtiyaz daughter, no? I would not miss it," Muhammed bowed. "She owns some fine horses. An interesting addition to your breeding scheme."

For a moment Ardeth wondered if the man was still talking about horses, but he let the subject go. It was clear that the Al-Hadi family did not know Ester personally, and he was pleased enough that he had not been subjected to gossip about her. It was likely that there was plenty of gossip about Ester's misadventure in the desert, the death of her cousin, the sordid details about her match with Sahir Taymullah and his own offer for her hand – thankfully people seemed to have the good sense to never mention anything of the sort within earshot of him or his men.

Then again it might feel good to face someone and defend her honour rather than know that the malicious gossip floated around the huge campment, faceless but vicious.

As they said goodbye to Muhammed bin Sarouk Al-Hadi he reminded himself that after tomorrow, they would be back in the silence of the desert, and all these people could say whatever they wanted – it would not make a bit of difference.

* * *

___To be continued._


	9. The Upside : Chapter 9

The Upside

_chapter 9_

_

* * *

  
_

He was awake well before dawn, breathing in deeply the crisp air before sunrise. It was still cold, and the dust that was a constant in the daytime of the camp had not yet been kicked up.

His horse greeted him with a low whicker, looking around eagerly. Ardeth smiled as he caressed the soft nose. The horse picked up on the tension in its master – it knew something was about to happen.

"I am getting married," he told the horse under his breath. It still sounded strange to his own ears. "To Ester. You have met her."

His horse had liked her, too, he remembered. She'd approached it with the confident manner of one who has long experience with stallions, and the horse had accepted her immediately.

"Then you are going with Fouad," he murmured, smiling when the horse nudged his shoulder. "I travel with the camels while you and he plan the celebrations, hmm?"

He looked up as the first adhan sounded, the call to prayer. In the desert were no mosques, no adhan, and the Medjai were not used to such organised religion. Allah to the desert peoples was an understanding God, a practical God who understood that the Medjai, while faithful, did not have time to sink into prayer five times a day.

Today, however, he went to wash himself and then knelt down to ask for continued safety of Hamanuptra and the Nameless One, for wisdom in his role of leader, for the safety and prosperity of his people, but above all for a blessing of his marriage.

The sun was barely up when two men arrived with Ester's things and her horses. Ardeth was surprised at how little belongings she had sent. He knew she could travel light, but was this truly all she wished to take from her former life?

"Ardeth, do my lithan, will you?" Fouad implored, handing him the armful of cloth of his ceremonial veil. Ardeth set to work, grateful for the distraction. He had been fully dressed and ready for some time, but it was not yet time to ride to the Imtiyaz camp. His people were walking around, getting themselves and the camels ready for the wedding, breaking up the camp, generally being part of the organised hectics of the day.

He'd talked to his men earlier and found Adel and Haytam prepared to stay behind in the Medjai camp to guard the horses and make the last preparations for the journey into the desert. In exchange, they would ride to the Medjai base camp with the horses, and Abdul-Rahim and Amar would travel with him and Ester and the camels.

While he thought ahead to the journey, his hands pleated and draped the cloth into the elaborate style the Medjai men wore for ceremonial wear, though he'd asked the men to keep their faces visible. Traditionally only the eyes were free, but he expected that it would put Ester's family and their guests at ease to be able to see faces.

Not long afterward they were all on camels and moving toward the Imtiyaz camp. Ardeth looked around and knew they made an impresive picture in ceremonial garb and on the tall white camels. Next to his own mount he led along a riderless camel with elaborate deep blue tack shot with silver thread, and all who saw them knew he went to his wedding.

Many people stopped to stare – the Nile Valley people were used to parades on horseback, but a group such as this on camels was something else. To the eyes of these people they were exotic and mysterious, ghosts from the desert where few of them would ever set foot.

Whispers ran along the spectators, and he heard Ester's name in tones varying between gossip and awe. Even the whispered word _Medjai_ reached his ears a couple of times.

The Imtiyaz camp had arranged a large coral for the camels, and as the riders dismounted they were greeted with large platters of fresh dates.

Abdul-Jalil, an imposing figure in his best robes, greeted him with a bow.

"Salaam 'alaykum wa raHmat allâhi wa barakaatu," the older man intoned formally. Then, breaking into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, "I hope you rested well."

"Wa 'alaykum is salaam," he answered with a bow. "Indeed I did."

"We have guards for your camels, but if you wish to leave one of your own, please feel free."

Ardeth hid his surprise. It was generally perceived as an insult to have your animals guarded in the camp of a friend. Perhaps the Imtiyaz family, owner of such coveted horses, had its own conventions about it.

"Not necessary, my friend."

Abdul-Jalil led them to the central fireplace of the camp, where one of the awnings had been turned into a wedding parlour. Here the first part of the ceremony would take place. He would speak with Ester's male relatives over mint tea while she spoke with Yamira and Adiva, who substituted for his female relatives.

After that he would finally get to see her, and together they would speak with the Imam, receive a special copy of the Queran, and pray together. Then in public the faridah would be arranged and they would sign the marriage contract. Once that ceremony drew to an end there would be two celebration meals in different sections of the Imtiyaz camp. One where Ester would eat with the women, and one where he would celebrate with the men.

It was well past noon and he was still in the tent with her uncles, and though the formal part of the meeting was over and the mint tea flowed richly, Ardeth found himself wishing for a break. Wedding celebrations among the Medjai were lengthy affairs, but the ceremony itself took perhaps two hours. The rest of the time was festive, and nobody was expected to do anything in the heat of the day. He hoped Ester was having a more enjoyable time.

It seemed an eternity later when Imam Fahrad bin Souad was led in, and to Ardeth it appeared to be even longer before Ester's uncles took their leave, signalling that the next part of the ceremony could begin.

"Is a wedding ceremony very different with your people?" the Imam asked as the two men waited for Ester to join them.

"It is," he answered with a slight smile, remembering the wedding of his sister. The basic details were the same – a contract, though it wasn't written but spoken by the council of Elders, and a faridah, and witnesses. Beyond that the similarities so far seemed to end. Her sister's wedding had been a riot of sound and colour and laughter, dancing, parading on camels and horses, a festive time. So far a wedding with the Nile Valley people seemed grave in comparison.

"My apologies if I seem restless," he said after a moment.

"Not uncommon in people who are about to get married," the Imam said kindly. Ardeth chuckled.

"I am not restless for that," he said. _I have never been this confident about a decision in my whole life._ "It is merely that I had planned to get underway to my tribe's homegrounds tonight, but I had no clear idea of how this day would proceed. It may be better to stay here for the night after all."

That would be inconvenient after the tents had been packed up, and he'd really planned to have the first time they officially shared a tent to be far outside of the camp.

"Once the ceremony is over, you are free to leave – though I'm sure the Imtiyaz family would be pleased to have you and your people here for the meal."

They both stood up as cheerful female chatter drew closer, and then Ester stepped under the awning. Her face was serious as was expected, but her body language said that she was at ease. Maybe she'd had an enjoyable time talking to Adiva and Yamira.

The dress she wore was the deep sky blue of her family, and it was embroidered with white all along the front and the cuffs. Her veil was the same colour, but with little silver coins lining her forehead. She looked breath taking.

Her face showed nothing, but her eyes fastened on his. For a long moment they only stared at each other, as if locked in the gaze. He felt a flash of warmth start in his stomach and rip through his body Then she shook herself, and knelt next to him, and from the blush that rose to her cheeks he thought she might have the same experience.

"We are here together to speak of the duties of marriage, and of your marriage in specific." the Imam started. "You enter this union freely and on your own choice. Words spoken before God may not be retracted. Promises made before God may not be broken…"

They sat together as they listened to the Imam, and though the man was a gifted speaker Ardeth now and then felt his attention stray to Ester, sitting so close he could smell the henna she had used for her hair and hands and the scented oil that had to be on her skin… he turned his thoughts back to the present. His eyes were fixed on the face of the Imam, but from the corners of his eyes he could see her hands, painted with henna patterns. Occasionally she would shift – he knew that her leg would not be comfortable sitting still for very long. One time her thumb began to tap against her fingertips as some inner rhythm took hold of her, but she noticed, and quickly stilled again.

Finally the Imam's story drew to an end.

"If there is anything you wish to say to each other before the ceremony, now, under the gaze of Al-Khabîr, is the moment."

He could finally turn to her, and after more than an hour of sitting next to her without being able to look at her, just the sight of her made him smile. She smiled back, and their hands found each other without conscious thought.

"When we get to the part of the faridah," he said softly, "the amount will be higher than we talked about."

"You didn't have to—"

"I did, actually," he gently cut her off. "It is a token of my appreciation for you, and a gift to you and all our female descendants."

He brought her hands to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

"I say this now because I didn't want you to be taken by surprise."

She nodded, and he knew she understood. He wanted it to appear like she'd asked this price, and he'd paid it gladly. If she looked flustered or surprised, the effect would be gone.

"Very well. I also have a gift for you…"

"Oh?" That was not common as far as he knew.

"It's perhaps better to give this now. If you would excuse me a moment…"

When both he and the Imam nodded, she got up and slipped out of the tent. He looked at the other man, who shrugged.

"I am as curious as you are."

If any gifts were exchanged it was generally after they were officially wedded, so he wondered what it could be that she wished to give him now.

She returned with a small bundle of cloth held carefully between her hands, which she held out to show him.

A tiny, fluffy chick opened its mouth and demanded food.

He looked at her in astonishment. He'd sometimes wished for a trained hawk, but one had to hand-raise and train them, a lengthy process he on his own couldn't guarantee time for.

"It's a red tailed hawk, bred from a line of prize hunters. I thought we might…" she trailed off under his gaze. "His name is Horus."

He mentally shook himself, realising that she was unsure of his reaction. He cupped one hand around hers and the hawk chick and laid the other along her cheek.

"Thank you," he said softly. He had no other words, but he hoped she understood what it meant to him.

She smiled, and they both gazed at the little bird for a long moment.

He still had moments of doubt about her reasons for marrying him. Did she truly return his feelings or was it more a practical choice for her? While he hoped for the first, he now knew that whatever happened, she cared for him, and for his happiness.

The Imam shifted his weight, tactfully reminding them of his presence.

"I will give the bird back to my niece to care for," she whispered, and slipped out of the tent for a moment.

"If you are ready, we will pray together," said the Imam finally.

It was the only time that a man and a woman prayed together; at least in the Nile Valley where such mores were strictly adhered to.

They kneeled again side by side, and the Imam led them in a prayer to ask Al-Muhyi for the blessing of their union.

* * *

The Imam had his back to them while he spoke with one of Ester's relatives, and Ardeth used that moment of distraction to take her hands in his own. The small coins on her temples chimed softly as she looked up, the briefest of moments, before casting her eyes down.

He found it hard to tell if it was shyness or nerves that caused her to look down, or perhaps something else. It would not be surprising if she was nervous about facing the assembled crowd that could already be heard outside.

"Ester..." again that brief glance. He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. "It will be fine. You eat with your party, I eat with mine. Say farewell to your family. Then at sundown I will come to collect you, and we will ride out. Yes?"

He looked at her face, looking for a sign of hope, of the crackling warmth that sometimes formed between them. A slight smile flew over her face, and nodded. Then she gently took her hands out of his. He gave her a questioning look.

"We are not to touch until after the ceremony," she said softly.

The Imam was waiting in the tent opening. With a last, lingering look they both turned and followed the man toward the gathered crowd.

* * *

From the sounds at least, Ardeth reflected, Ester seemed to be having a good time. While the meal of the men was excellent – the Imtiyaz family would have tolerated no less – and the conversation superficial but pleasant enough, he also found it rather formal and even somewhat boring. From the direction of the women's area though, drums sounded and handclaps, and now and then high-pitched ullulating. It sounded like they were dancing and singing, and he fervently hoped that she was at ease, and able to enjoy this last night with her family.

Earlier, during the ceremony she had seemed calm and regal despite her nerves, and he hoped that she would have so much poise when the crowd was made up out of Medjai.

The ceremony had been sober and not as long as he'd feared. The contract read out by the Imam and ceremoniously signed by the both of them. The holding of hands. The exchange of the faridah; he had not missed the subtle reactions in the assembled crowd. As he'd intended, this proof of his high esteem for her seemed to go part way in restoring the damage Sahir Taymullah had done.

His hands had trembled just slightly as he put the Medjai amulet around her neck. He wondered if she had noticed.

Then the women had come forward from their section in the crowd and swept her up in their midst, a bright blue light in a sea of black robes. He'd resisted the urge to follow her with his eyes until she was out of sight, because Umayyad Kalifah Imtiyaz had addressed him at that point, and he had no wish to be insult his new relatives.

Following Umayyad to the area where the meal had been set up for the men, he'd seen Abdul-Jalil smile as the man followed his gaze.

* * *

Ardeth forced his attention back to the conversation around him. As far as he was concerned, the sun could go under.

* * *

Al-Khabîr – the All-Aware

Al-Muhyi - The Giver of Life


	10. The Upside : Chapter 10

**The Upside**

**Chapter 10**

At last the sun was low enough in the sky that Ardeth felt he could make his excuses without offense. Abdul-Jalil's grin said he had expected this earlier.

A couple of his men had left some time ago to prepare the camels, and it didn't take long before his group was mounted. A drum started up as he led the Medjai past the groups of men where they were drinking tea, and through the camp toward the women.

From his high vantage point he could see dark outer robes hastily covering up colourful dresses, until Ester's blue dress stood alone in a sea of black. Like an oasis in the desert. Like…

Ardeth shook his head to clear the thought. Enough time for that later. The crowd of women split to let him pass, and his men came to a halt as he rode on toward his new wife. She had changed clothes into a suit of the same colour, but more suitable for riding; loose trousers and a tunic that reached her knees, but had slits, allowing her to ride. She also had a more practical hijab to cover her hair, with enough loose material that she could cover her face.

She stood there waiting for him, eyes on his, and he thought that he might be smiling. She was grave, though her stance seemed more relaxed than earlier in the day. He had not expected her to seem joyful; brides were not supposed to be, when they were taken away from their childhood homes.

He halted the two camels in the open space that had appeared before her, and clacked his tongue to make them both kneel. They did so, grumbling quietly, and he dismounted. All this time his eyes had not strayed from her face.

"My Lady," he said, and they reached for one another's hands. He first bowed over them, very formal, and then pressed a kiss to her hand. "I have come to take you to your new home."

"And gladly I will come with you," she said, loud enough that the surrounding women could hear.

"Then bide your farewells," he said gently, "so that we may be off."

She squeezed his hands, just slightly, and he released her so that she could say goodbye. It did not take her long; she had clearly spent the afternoon saying her goodbyes. Some of her male family had also joined the circle, and he watched silently as she said a very formal farewell to Umayyad Kalifah, the head of the family, and was then warmly embraced by Abdul-Jalil. The man whispered something in her ear, and she nodded.

The last person she said goodbye to was a girl in her teen years, tears streaming openly down her face. Ester hugged her very carefully, and then accepted the small cloth bundle the girl handed to her. It was the hawk chick. She tucked it in a cloth pouch that hung from her shoulder, safe and close.

When she turned back to him, he saw moisture shine in her eyes. He laid a gentle hand along her cheek for a moment, and then led her to the mount he had brought for her. The near-white camel mare was the most sweet tempered of the ones they had with them, and it sniffed Ester's outstretched hand curiously. As he had hoped, it made her smile a little.

"This is Yusra," Ardeth introduced her to her kneeling mount.

Ester mounted easily, and he looked on approvingly as she held on to the saddle and then nudged the camel with her feet to get up. It ponderously unfolded its legs and rose into the air.

He took a moment to say his own farewells to her uncles, a formal bow to Umayyad Kalifah, and an embrace with Abdul-Jalil. The man was smiling widely.

"We will be in communication, Insha Allah" Ardeth promised.

"I look forward to it. May you have much happiness together."

He looked at the man without whom this marriage most likely would not have had happened, and granted him a rare smile.

"Thank you."

Mounting his own camel and urging it to stand up with a clack of his tongue, he looked around the assembled Imtiyaz family once more.

"My thanks for the hospitality you have extended to me and my people," he said. "May Al-Muhaymin watch over your journey home." For they, also, had a long journey to go until they reached the stables that were the Imtiyaz home.

With that, he turned his camel, and when Ester had steered her camel next to his, he gave her a small smile, and together they went forward. His people fell in behind their leader and his new wife as they rode past, and intrigued and admiring looks could be seen as the Medjai grandly left the Imtiyaz camp.

When they were some way off, Ardeth gestured for Fouad to ride next to him on his other side.

"What remains before we can leave?"

"Some of the camels need to be packed, and all the animals need to drink their fill. And most of us wish to change out of the fancy robes."

"That is all? Very well. To the camp first, then, so everybody can change into whatever they wish to wear for the journey."

He looked at Ester.

"Is there anything you wish to do before we ride out?"

"I believe I am ready. I only lack a robe suitable for riding," she said softly.

Remembering the overcoat he had bought for her, he nodded. "We will see about that in a moment. I believe I have something that will suit you."

A short time later the Medjai camp, now a bare stretch of hard sand with only the two corrals left, was an organised chaos. The Medjai swarmed around and horses were saddled, camels were packed with what possessions the Medjai had brought and bought. The grandly decorated ceremonial robes were replaced with more practical travel robes. Ardeth, in the thick of the organisational cluster consisting of Fouad, Nassar and himself, finally detached himself and looked around for Ester. He had not meant to abandon her. He found her back in the horse corral, saddling horses with practised ease, checking the back and feet of each mount she handled.

"I see you have found a way to make yourself useful," he said with approval. She threw a grin over her shoulder.

"This I can do." She pulled tight a girth, stroked the horse's neck, and went to the next.

"Are your own animals in readiness?"

She nodded to the other side of the corral, where the two studs were tied off. Her white mare stood nearby, watching the proceedings with gentle interest. All were saddled with the stirrups tied away, so they would not hinder the horse if it was not ridden.

"Your people—" she caught herself, because they were now also her people, and struggled a moment, "they are welcome to ride Amable and the mare, but please not Khamaseen. I should like to see everybody arrive safely."

"I will see to it," he said, remembering how difficult the animal could be. "Here is the robe I promised you."

He presented her with the riding coat, and her eyes lit up as she shook it out.

"I hoped it would suit you," he said. "Try it on?"

The cut flattered her, dipping in to her waist before flaring out. She pulled up the hood and put her arms around herself, looking very comfortable.

"Thank you," she said shyly. "It feels as if I have received nothing but gifts from you."

"You will need to get accustomed to that," he said dryly.

Not long after that the work slowly stilled as the two groups separated out. All the horses in one group, with most of the Medjai. The camels in the other group, with Ardeth, Ester and the two men he had designated to accompany them. Ardeth inspected the camel packing. Three of the animals bore bundles of branches that had been part of the coral; it would be a luxury to be able to make fire in the desert. Others were dragging the long tent poles that were hard to find deep in the desert.

"Are we ready?"

Fouad nodded.

"My party is complete, and I had all the camel packs double-checked. All we need to do is let them drink, fill the water skins, and we are ready to depart."

"Very well. Mount up."

With little ceremony the Medjai mounted their horses. Ester waited next to her camel.

"It seems a rather laborious process for her to kneel and get up. Should we walk so we can fill the waterskins? Or do you intend to dismount again?"

"Rahim and Amar will fill the water skins, though you may certainly walk if you wish."

"Will you?"

He shook his head. A leader rode. At least, in this camp he did. Out in the desert he had no qualms walking.

She nodded, and convinced her camel to kneel so that she could mount.

Fouad led the horses in front, then Ardeth rode with Ester by his side. Behind them Rahim led the first of the loaded camels, and the rest had been tied behind it in a long train. Amar walked next to the last.

While the animals drank, Yamira and Adiva chatted about the celebration they would have when their leader and his new wife arrived in the camp. While the men weren't as vocal, Ardeth saw that most of them were just as eager to return home with their good news. The harsh reality of life in the desert did not leave much space for relaxation and celebrations.

"You will keep it in hand, yes?" he quietly said to Fouad. A rambunctious welcome might be more than Ester could comfortably handle on her

His second in command grinned widely.

"Not only that, I will take on Kedar for you before you arrive."

Kedar was the leader of the third tribe of the Medjai, and had long hoped that Ardeth would chose one of his three daughters. Ardeth hoped that the women themselves had moved on since the last time he'd seen Kedar. It would not go easy for Ester if she faced resistance like that.

"Thank you."

The two men clasped forearms, a little awkwardly with the height difference between horse and camel, and nodded at each other. No more words were needed.

* * *

Ardeth and Ester rode at the head of the long line of tethered camels, with Amar and Abdel-Rahim following it. That gave them more privacy than ever before – or at least, more privacy than propriety dictated that they were supposed to have had.

They rode in silence. Somehow he had expected more from the moment.

The majority of his people had disappeared into the distance with the horses, the column of dust they had raised already dissipating in the gathering dark.

From what he could see, Ester's face was still serious, and she had a tense set to her shoulders. She was unaccustomed to riding a camel, though she was doing well enough, but he couldn't attribute her mood to that alone. He brought his camel closer to hers.

"My lady, are you well?"

She startled to attention.

"My apologies. I am fine, my thanks for your concern."

He hid a grimace at that polite and distant reply. He had thought that there was affection between them. A genuine fondness. Her reaction to him that morning had reassured him of that.

Now he began to wonder if she regretted her decision to accept his proposal. She had had little time to think about it after all, and once her family had known there was no graceful way of backing out.

He wondered if she regretted refusing Sahir Taymullah. She could have been on her way to a comfortable life at a small breeding ranch. A stone or adobe house with a real bed and a well outside. Servants, probably. The possibility of seeing her family several times a year.

It was too late for that. She was bound to him now, and to the Medjai, and that bond could not be broken a second time. Even if she did choose to leave, there would be nowhere to go – her stories had made that abundantly clear.

She would be with him. That was her place now.

As the dark grew deeper he frowned to himself. It was not sufficient that she was with him. He wanted her to be happy – had asked for her hand in the hope and belief that being his wife could make her happy. Make them both happy. Now, in the silence of the desert night, only the camel feet made their soft tracks in the sand, and he prayed that he had not been wrong.

"We will camp here," he said, halting his camel. It was nearing morning, and they needed to rest. He had thought to halt some hours before, but she had vehemently denied being tired or uncomfortable.

It took her a moment to halt her own camel, and then she waited, drawing her thick outer robes protectively around herself.

He let his camel kneel so he could dismount, and walked over to hers to assist her in making it kneel.

"The riding, I think I can handle," she said with a weak smile. "The kneeling business is for advanced learners."

He smiled back, encouraged by this glimpse of her normally upbeat character, but it disappeared as soon as Amar appeared. He was leading the camel that was transporting the tent poles toward the place he had picked for the tent. Ester's eyes followed them until they disappeared into the darkness.

She busied herself unloading camels while he quickly put up his tent… their tent—

"Oh!" it shot out of his mouth, an exclamation of belated realisation. He looked around, but nobody seemed to have heard. Then he quickly pounded the last stake into the ground, arranged their things inside, and went to look for Ester.

She was sitting on a stack of bags, next to her camel, which was still kneeled. Her knees were drawn up against her chest, tucked under the robe. She was staring out into the open desert, idly chewing bits of dried meat and then feeding them to the hawk chick.

He made sure to make sound as he approached, not wishing to alarm her.

"My lady," he greeted her, putting down his lantern.

"My lord."

"The tent is ready," he said, to test his conclusion. She seemed to shrink a little, retreating further into herself.

Ardeth silently cursed himself. All this time he had thought her indifferent or even regretful. And all this time she had worried… about the wedding night.

He settled down on the straw pack next to her, trying to think of a way he could amend this, calm her fears. They had never discussed what had happened to her during the attack on her camp in the desert, and it was clear to him that the unpleasant details would do nothing to lighten his mood. But perhaps they should have discussed these matters – at the very least he should have made it clear that he did not demand her to share his bed on their wedding night.

He touched her chin so that she looked into his eyes.  
"Does our wedding night worry you, Ester?" he asked, trying to understand the emotions that flew over her face.

The answer was a long time in coming.

"Y-yes…" she said finally, eyes cast down.

Ardeth felt a wave of sadness and guilt wash through him.

He released her, struggling for a way to fix this, to make it right. They sat next to one another for what seemed like a long time. She was looking out into the open desert, and he wondered what she saw there.

He was staring a hole in the sand between his feet, grasping for words. It was not a subject he was used to addressing.

Finally he took a deep breath and looked up. In the faint light of the moon he saw that she came to attention at his movement, her eyes wide.

"My lady…" the words were still not there, and he found himself staring into her eyes, willing her to understand him, to read the thoughts straight from his head.

She fidgeted with her hands, and he shook himself. She was perceptive, but he couldn't expect her to read his mind. He would need to explain this to her. He took one of her hands in his own. Her fingers were cold.

"My lady, I… I expect nothing of you beyond what is comfortable," he finally managed, still looking into her eyes, searching for a sign that she understood him.

"But a wedding night…" she trailed off.

"...is simply the first night of our marriage. There will be many to follow, InshaAllah."

She gave an uncertain nod, and he idly caressed her fingers while he looked for the right words.

"Tonight we do whatever we feel like. That includes telling stories, playing tawla or shatarang, having pillow fights—" he saw the corners of her lips curl just slightly, and felt himself smile in answer, "or simply talk a while, and then sleep."

She nodded, and gave a slight squeeze in his hand. Something passed between them that neither seemed to have words for. He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles.

"Will you come to our tent?"

She got up, a little stiff with the cold, and he led her to the ornate tent that was now their family home.

"This was my first tent, gifted when I came of age . It was meant to be my family tent when I married. Parts of it have been replaced since, but this entrance is still the original."

While he talked, he took two small bowls from a bag and filled them with pigment from two small leather pouches. Adding a drop of water, he gave her the bowl with the red brown paste to mix, and stirred the dark brown one himself.

He turned to the tent entrance. It was decorated with etched drawings, and there were some faint painted figures.

"I drew these symbols on that day, and we will draw them now together, to mark that this tent will be our family home, and to ask the gods for their protection and blessing."

She nodded and stirred the pigment paste with her forefinger.

He went to the left side of the entrance flap and traced on it the symbols of Amun, god of creation, of Isis, and of Toth. Then on the right side he drew the symbols of Khnum, god of fertility, and of Hathor. Finally he reached up and above the entrance he drew the symbol of Allah Al-Muhyi, the Giver of Life.

She slowly drew her red mud half over his, so that both colours remained visible. He'd wondered how she would feel about the Med-jai acknowledgement of the ancient Gods – Islam forbade worship of other gods, after all. The Med-jai, like many of the desert peoples, had converted only reluctantly, and the adoption of Islam had not erased the older customs and beliefs. He hoped she'd be able to get used to it, even if she did not completely adopt the Med-jai beliefs.

When it was done he took her hands, noting how cold they'd become.

"Would you like some time alone to wash and change?" he offered, guessing that doing these things with him present might be uneasy for her. She nodded gratefully, and he held open the tent flap for her.

Inside he'd lit one lantern, throwing just enough light to see by. It lit the comfortable mats and the pile of blankets. On top was the wedding blanket, elaborately embroidered by Yamira and Adiva. He'd put down some of the other things he'd bought, making it look more like a base tent than a shelter for a single night.

She peeked in and turned back to him, her eyes wide.

"Ardeth, it's.."

"I thought your first night as a Medjai should not be in a shelter on the cold sand," he smiled.

"Thank you."

They stood close together for a drawn out moment, and he waited for her to turn away, but she didn't, perhaps held there by the same invisible force that made his hands come up of their own volition and ghost the contours of her face. He leant forward to kiss her upturned face, first one cheek, then the other, then her soft lips. She let out a long, shaky breath, relaxing into his touch.

It was a gentle kiss, their faces angled a little, their breath mingling, and he revelled in the way her hands had come up to lay on his waist, as if she felt unsteady on her feet.

He ended the kiss with a hint of regret, but knew not to push her any further. Her breath was going a little faster, and her cheeks were warm, as if she was flushed. He felt gratified. Whatever her reasons for marrying him, she seemed just as affected as he was, and he chose to see that as a good sign.

"There is water and a cloth inside. I will go check on the camels," he said softly.

* * *

To be continued

_With thanks to tigerlily124 for giving me such a boost with all those upbeat chapter reviews of The Downside! I am in a creative drought at the moment, but The Upside is actually nearly finished – though I haven't quite figured out where it wants to end yet. Anyway, I'm kind of pushing at it in the hope that it'll start moving. _

_Tawla – backgammon  
Shatarang - chess_


	11. The Upside : Chapter 11

**The Upside**

_Chapter 11_

* * *

When he entered the tent, she was nervous. He had known to expect that, yet still it stung a little; after all his efforts to gain her trust he had hoped not to see her hands flutter restlessly as they did now. He had left her some time in his - their - tent to wash and change in private, and when the soft sounds stilled he'd found her sitting on the sleeping mats, knees drawn up so that only her toes peeked out from under her long nightgown.

Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and he remembered when he had tended to it for her, in the deserted city where they had dealt with her attackers. How despite the pain and the fear about her new situation, she'd all but basked in the feeling of his touch. It was the first time that he had wondered if she might be amenable to a marriage, and staying with the Medjai. It felt like a very long time ago.

He undressed to the loose drawstring trousers and sat down next to her. She pinked prettily at the sight of his bare torso, eyes drawn to the tattoos yet not quite brazen enough to look outright. He reached over to a pile of blankets and gave her one, smiling at her surprise - as if she only now realised that she was cold.

It was awkward, this - she was nervous and he wasn't completely sure of what he had expected to happen, either.

"You would think that since this is our second wedding night, we would feel more at ease with it, would you not?" he said, and a sudden smile curved her lips. He felt himself answer it, heart rising at her reaction.

He washed quickly, wiping dust and sweat from his chest and neck. She watched, growing bolder in her looks, more at ease. When he was finished he put the things away and joined her on the wedding bed, a mat covered by a thick cover and many pillows.

She gave him a shy smile, and he reached out to cup her cheek, letting the pad of his thumb trace those soft lips. His other hand trailed down her dark hair, its curls smoothed to waves from having been rolled up all day.

Her eyes drifted shut, and he shifted to sit closer, gently cradling her head between his hands, making small circles on her temples. She let out a deep, trembling breath, and then relaxed into his hands. It made him warm inside that he could do this, that his hands held this power. He spent some time massaging her scalp, and then moved on to finger-combing her hair. She had sagged a little, lightly leaning against his chest.

"Do you like that?" he murmured into her ear.

She made a soft sound of content, and he smiled into her hair.

"Shall I braid it for you?"

"Yes please," she murmured drowsily. She felt around next to the sleeping mat until she found a hairbrush made of horsehair, and handed it to him.

He ran it over her hair, liking the feel of it, and the soothing repetitiveness of caring for her hair. She might not be ready to consummate the marriage, but she liked it when he touched her, and was at ease with it. That, by his measure, was a very good start.

Finally he began to feel sleepy himself, lulled by the feeling of her and the gentle calm of the moment. He divided her hair into three parts, and made a neat, loose braid, tying it off with a leather cord she gave to him.

"All done." He pressed a gentle kiss just behind her ear. She shivered a little.

He lay on his side, propped up on an arm, and gestured for her to lay back also. After a moment of hesitation she did, shuffling until she was comfortable. He remembered that her fall was just days ago; she would certainly still be sore from her hard landing.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked softly, drawing her blanket up over her. The sun was still under; it would not be warming up for a few hours. She nodded, laying on her back, head tilted toward him. He moved a little closer and, moving slowly, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her face scrunched up a little at the touch of his beard, and they both chuckled, the tense atmosphere gone now. Seeing her smile he ghosted a kiss against the fine curve of her lips, an undemanding request.

She tilted her head a little to make the contact, and he let out a long breath as he caressed her full lips with his own. She returned the kiss, tentative and inexperienced, but it made his heart sing with joy. He stroked her face with a free hand, fingertips along her cheek and hair, and the quiet moment seemed to last a very long time. When he broke the kiss she let out a long breath of relaxation, and he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of her nose.

He laid down and wrapped his blanket closer around him. He made a little space between their bodies, so that she would feel comfortable moving around. For the same reason he'd given her her own blanket. He didn't want to force her to chose between being cold and being too close for comfort.

Her face was still tilted toward him, quite close, and he thought he saw something of surprise there, as if she had not expected him to leave things at a kiss. That was good. He never wanted to push her beyond what she found comfortable.

"How do you feel about leaving the Races?"

"I will miss some of my family, I think..."

"We can go to the Races again every few years," he promised. He knew that might be important to her, and had already decided it could be arranged.

"But I am glad to be away now... I like the silence when I sleep."

He smiled, hearing his own sentiment. The Races had been interesting just for the novelty of having all those breeders and merchants together... a paradise of goods the Medjai normally didn't have access to. However now he was away he missed it not a second, was only glad to be in the calm, harsh beauty of the desert once again.

"What did you think of the Races?" she asked.

"It was quite unlike anything I've seen before," he said. "Not even at a gathering of all the tribes of the Medjai is there such a press of people. I enjoyed the chance to see the marketwares and craftsmen. And I've made Nassar a very happy man."

"As well he should be – he traded well," she said, and he grinned because she knew what she was talking about.

"I've also made myself a happy man," he whispered, stroking her loose braid with his fingertips. "And I hope I will make you a happy woman."

She smiled, and moved to kiss the side of his hand, but said nothing, and he wondered what she was thinking. Did she think happiness was possible, or had she simply chosen for the best options that was offered to her? Could she become not just his wife, but the wife of the Medjai leader – who was a leader in her own right? Would his people accept her like he hoped they would?

Her breathing had changed to a slow, regular rhythm, and she curled up on her side, arms around one of the pillows. It made him smile again. He idly wondered if he'd ever smiled this often before.

..ooOoo..

He'd wondered about this moment, about waking up. About how he would find her. Worried that she would be afraid of his touch, disturbed by his proximity, too uneasy to sleep. That he would find her curled up as far away as possible.

However he woke up to find her not only asleep, but also quite close. He had made sure there were blankets for the both of them, so that she would not feel forced to be closer than she were comfortable with. Now, her body wrapped loosely in the dark blue cover, her forehead rested lightly against the top of his arm. Her soft breath stroked his skin in the slow rhythm of sleep.

He felt a wash of warm elation. Had she needed more time to get this comfortable it would not have bothered him; it would take time, and he was ready to give her what she needed to become comfortable with being his wife.

This chaste touch spoke of a blooming trust, of growing confidence and affection.

Of hope.

He resisted the urge to put his arm about her. Tempting though it was to hold her as he had longed to do, he did not wish to startle her awake.

Outside a camel groaned, a drawn out complaint against some heavy task it dreamt of. Judging by the angle of the light it was nearing noon, and they would not set out again until the evening. They had time to linger. Ardeth reached out to open a tent flap a little further for ventilation. He stretched lazily and turned his head to look at her sleeping face.

_Al-Musawwir, I love her__. With her by my side, hopefully in time children.. _

He pictured the family he'd always hoped to have, and that was now perhaps within reach, and allowed himself to drift back to sleep with a smile.

..ooOoo..

_It was pitch black around him__, with a musty coolness on the air. He was tired, so very tired and his legs felt like they were filled with lead. His side was wet and sticky, and he knew that it was blood, recognised the slickness of it on his fingers. He drew in a laboured breath and knew he was in Nendjbaendjed, in the cellars under the abandoned city. That underground maze was the last refuge of the raiders they had eradicated. That meant there should not be any of them now, he thought. Hoped. He couldn't go on, his knees refused duty, made him stumble sideways against a wall. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to get up again if he sat down, but there was no choice now. He tried to control his descent to the ground. He'd just sit.. here... and.. rest..._

_A soft touch to his shoulder yanked him back to full awareness, and he reflexively grabbed at whatever touched him. A soft gasp yanked his sleep-addled mind back to the here and now_. In his tent._  
_  
In the tent he shared with his wife.

She was looking at him with wide, startled eyes. He immediately loosened his grip on her wrist.

"Hells, I am sorry," he forced out. His voice sounded dry and hoarse. He let go of her and pushed himself to a sit, trying to push the tendrils of that vivid dream from his mind. When he'd mastered himself, he lay back down and reached for her.

She hesitated for the fraction of a second, and then came to him, settling in the circle of his arms. He stroked her hair until her breath calmed.

"Show me your wrist?"

She did. It was red where his hand had closed around it. That would be a bruise.

He grimaced.  
"I'm so very sorry. The dream... I didn't know what I was doing."

"Should I not have woken you?" she finally asked in a soft voice.

"I am grateful that you did," he answered, "But I worry for your safety. Calling my name might be better."

He felt her nod.

"I dreamed of being in the cellar system underneath that abandoned city, only this time you were not there. And I think I was dying."

Her arm tightened around his waist for a moment.

"Do you remember anything from that day?"

"Just flashes, I think," she said. "Lots of masked faces. A sandstorm. And I think you talked to me, in the tunnels."

He kissed the top of her head.  
"I wasn't sure if you were aware of me," he said softly. "You only cried."

"I think I didn't know if I was with you or.. or with the raiders, until you started speaking to me," she whispered.

He pulled her closer against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Marvelled at how good that felt, how right.

_Great Allah, I love her. Thank you for bringing her onto my path._

..ooOoo..

As the evening fell, they were back underway, riding knee to knee at the head of the long train of camels. He'd given her the invitation to ask questions about him and the Medjai, and she had gone quiet for the space of a long moment, giving it some serious thought. Then she had asked about the power dynamics in the group of warriors at the time that they rescued her.

"Not long before that time there were Westeners at the sacred city we guard. My father was the leader of the Medjai at that time, and I was at his command. His wish was that I should kill them so they could not spread tales of the City," he explained. "In my reluctance to do so, some of the men saw weakness."

"For not having them killed immediately?"

"Later, I allied with a small group of the westerners, and together managed to defeat the Cursed One. Some felt that though my end result had been good, they did not approve of my methods. It has taken some time to convince some of the older warriors that I am worth following now that I am the leader. In many ways I am completely different from my father."

"Am I correct in thinking that the situation has improved since I.. since I travelled with you, before?"

"Oh, certainly. In fact it was in part that we encountered you, and what that meeting led to, that helped me establish myself. The Council of Elders approved of my handling of the situation, and many of the men did too."

Her eyes grew wide in surprise.  
"Truly? I often thought they wished that you had left me in that oasis."

"It was a difficult situation. It is not proper for an unrelated woman to travel alone with a group of men, and your presence made some of the men uncomfortable, for they did not know how to regard you. Many of them chose to ignore your presence as much as possible to hide their discomfort. However, they all knew that we could no more ignore whom Allah had put upon our path than we could ignore our sacred duties. "

..ooOoo..

"So Hamanuptra is safe under the ground?" She asked a few hours later.

"For now, yes," Ardeth said, steering his camel a little closer to hers. He didn't like speaking about this at full volume, even though they were alone in the desert.

"However the curiosity of foreigners is very great, and we must stay vigilant so that the Cursed remains safe under the ground."

"That is the main task the Medjai warriors have?"

They were several hours into the night's ride, and he had deemed it time to explain her more about the Medjai and the history of his people.

"There are several smaller locations that must be protected, and we police the desert land around it against…" he trailed off, remembering that she knew very well what kind of people they patrolled for.

She just nodded, seeming just as glad to gloss it over.

"I intend to reorganise the way we guard the ancient sites, so that less of the men are away from base camp at any one time. When we arrive in camp, the other tribes will already be on their way to join us for a celebration."

"Ah yes, the celebration. What will be expected of me?"

"If you mean during the wedding ceremony, I think my mother will be a better source of information. She will help you and prepare you. In general - we will present ourselves to the tribes, and the leaders of each will meet with us first in a feast, and later in private."

She nodded, as if she'd been expecting that.

..ooOoo..

Sometime over the past day of riding he had forgotten his worries about her motives, Ardeth realised as he set up their tent for the night. They had spent most of the day talking about their lives and what the future was going to be like. He'd given her full insight into the sacred duties of the Medjai, wanting her to understand why it was necessary for him to ride out.

Finally they'd ridden in companionable silence, riding knee to knee. He'd caught her looking at him a few times, but she'd just smiled, and she no longer seemed as tense or nervous.

He glanced over at where she was, seated on one of the camel packs. She was feeding the fledgling hawk and talking softly to it. He couldn't help smiling. She would be a great mother.

He lost himself in thoughts for a moment, picturing her with their children. He knew he was supposed to wish for sons, but his mind's eye drew a girl first, a fiery little girl with Ester's eyes. She was riding in front of him on Athir, and Ester rode next to them, heavily pregnant with their second child.

"What do you see?" she drew his attention back to the present, and he realised he'd been staring into the dark. She was standing in front of him, the hood of her riding coat drawn up against the chill of the night.

"Our future," he said.

"You were smiling," she sounded pleased.

..ooOoo..

They both startled awake when a camel lowed close to the tent, and Ardeth was pleased to see the disorientation in her eyes give way to comfort when she realised where she was. In sleep they had shifted closer together, he half on his side, his nose against the dark curls that were caught in a loose braid. Her body angled away from him a little, but her face was snuggled against his shoulder, her lips lightly against his skin. They moved a little as she woke, and he felt heat radiate from that place through his entire body.

"Good morning."

She gave him a small smile in answer. He couldn't resist, and pressed a gentle kiss to those smiling lips.

"Good morning, husband," she said. He noticed that she looked pleased at how that word sounded from her lips. He smiled a little. He liked it too.

"I liked our second wedding night better than the first," he said. "And the third one was even better. Practise DOES make perfect."

She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. His breath caught for a moment. Even the barest touch from her could set his blood on fire - her lips to his bare skin was a whole new chapter in the book of self control. If she knew what she did to his body he knew that she might shy back, so for now he worked to contain his physical reactions. The step from loving to passionate touches was something she would need to work up to.

He used a strand of her hair to draw delicate patterns on her face, smiling when she twitched ticklishly. When he stopped, she returned the action, tickling first his face with her hair and then down his throat to his collarbone. She lingered on the tattoos at the front of his shoulder, and gently fingered his amulet, taking her time to study it. Omar had added the engravings that signified 'married' to it before they left the Spring Races. Ester leant in and feathered a kiss against his throat.

Ardeth groaned softly.

"Stop?"

"Allah, no," he whispered. It was one of the first times that she took the initiative to touch him, really explore his body, and he loved it.

She smiled a little and traced the tattoo on his sternum, fingertips trailing along the arc of his ribs. It tickled a little.

"Will I be expected to get one, too?" she asked idly, leaning over to study the deep blue inking. Her curls trailed over his chest, making him take a deep breath.

"Most of the women have one on their back," he rested his hand between her shoulder blades, and was pleased when she leant into the touch a little, "and one here." he indicated a place high on his abdomen. "One when they come of age, and one when they marry."

They were protective symbols, the one on the back representing powerful protective spells over the heart, the one on her abdomen protecting any child she might bear.

"When do I get them?"

He was surprised at her easy acceptance of the idea of tattooing. As a rule only desert dwellers had it as a practice - it was not at all common in the Nile Valley, where Islam was followed more to the letter. Koran forbade tattooing, but the various desert peoples were only influenced by the Koran to a certain degree. The Medjai were muslim, but their culture was shot through with the rituals and practices of their ancient duty.

"When you feel ready," he shrugged. She was not expected to embrace all Medjai ritual from the first day. "Though if you became with child, it would be preferable to have them."

She nodded, bending down to study the symbol just under his navel, tracing it with her fingertip. The muscles in his stomach contracted, and he took hold of her hand and drew it to his lips. Her tentative touches set his blood on fire, and he needed something to concentrate on.

She watched him with wide eyes as he caressed the back of her hand with his lips, first with soft, chaste kisses and when she did not pull away, with his lips slightly open. He turned her hand to place a lingering, wet kiss in the palm of her hand, and she took a shivery breath.

"Stop?"

Her eyes widened a fraction at that question, transfixed on his own, an after a moment she gave a tiny shake of her head. He smiled inwardly and moved his ministrations to the inside of her wrist, feeling the rapid beating of her pulse against his tongue. He laced his fingers through hers and sat up to kiss her. She welcomed his lips on hers. It was slow and gentle, and he let his other hand roam her shoulders and neck, dig into her hair, massage the base of her skull. She made a low, soft sound of pleasure and her hand squeezed his.

He shifted a little to improve the angle, and her free hand went around to his back, trailing up and down his spine now with her fingertips, now with her nails. It was so light that he involuntarily arched away from her hand, closer against her, so that his chest pressed against hers. He took a deep breath at the feel of her round breasts pushing against him, shielded only by the thin cotton of her nightdress. Her hand flattened between his shoulder blades, warm pressure indicating that she approved of this new development.

He teased her lips with the tip of his tongue, and she opened up to him on a sigh. His head spun, and he found himself fighting the urge to push her down onto the mat and show her how good he could make her feel. _Too much, too soon. _

She made a happy little purr in her throat and he could feel her smile into the kiss. Ardeth drew his fingertips down the sides of her back, and she shivered, shoulders pulled up, head tilting back a little. Amused, he did it again, drawing forth a quiet squeak this time.

"That was an interesting sound..." he mused under his breath, doing it again. The thin linen was smooth under his fingers, and he grinned at the way she squirmed in his arms.

Outside it was getting warm. They had time to linger. After all, everybody was already assuming they would take their time during this journey. It was the first time since he was a small child when there was no pressure to go anywhere or do any duty; all he needed to do was be with her, and make enough progress toward the camp that they would not run out of supplies. He found he was enjoying the break from his duties. It was a good start, he thought, to spend this time together, to learn about each other, before they got subjected to the pressures and politics of the Medjai wedding.

..ooOoo..

The day's ride was short, which seemed to fluster her a little until he explained that their stop for the evening was too pleasant to pass up - their journey took them along the bottom of a steep cliff, and there were caves there. Ardeth took Amar into the deepest one to teach the young man the route through the maze of tunnels and chambers, to where a small trickle of water filled a basin. The next hour was filled with carrying water out for the camels while Abdul-Rahim built a fire and prepared food together with Ester.

..ooOoo..

Like the nights before he gave her some time to wash and change, and then joined her. She was much more comfortable with him now, he was pleased to note. Perhaps the leisurly pace they were taking together had reassured her that nothing was going to happen that she didn't want to.

When she watched him openly while he washed, he reach out to hand over her sketchbook. The laughter in her eyes made him take a deep breath.

"You indulge me."

He just grinned as he resumed wiping down his torso. The sound of charcoal scratching on paper, occasionally softened by her finger or the side of her hand, gave him goosebumps as surely as if she were touching him instead of the paper.

"Of course," he said after a few minutes, putting the cloth away. "You are my wife."

He moved to slide under the covers of their bed, noting that she'd drawn his shoulders and collarbones, careful attention to the planes of muscle and bone, and his tattoos.

She put the sketchbook away and lay down next to him, snuggling into the circle of his arms.

"Yes," she finally said.

He smiled, his nose buried in her hair. He hadn't expected a reply.

"And that pleases you?"

He could feel her breath even out as she started to slide toward sleep, and smiled ruefully. Perhaps not the best moment to ask such a question.

"...yes..." she whispered against his shoulder, and drifted off into sleep.

_Thank you, Al-Musawwir, for bringing her onto my path twice over_, he prayed silently. _With your help I will avoid treading in the footsteps of my father. I will be the leader my people need and the husband and father my family deserves. With your help I will keep Hamanuptra safe and protect the people from the monster._

His eyes slid over the pouch where Horus the hawk slept after a last feeding, and drifted off, feeling a hope for the future he hadn't ever had before.

* * *

**The End**

Notes: this is not really how I wanted to end this story, but it's what I've got and I don't think it's going to be any more than this. So there you go, the last chapter I held out for so long. Sorry about that! Thank you for hanging on for so long :-)

Al-Musawwir - The Shaper of Beauty


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